To Be With You
by zelda49
Summary: Sequal to 'Breathe Your Life Into Me'. Tim and Allyson may not have met in a conventional way, but it didn't stop them from becoming close friends. Now they find themselves becoming even closer as their relationship grows into something beyond friendship.
1. To Meet Or Not To Meet

A/N: So here we go with Part 2 of Allyson & Tim's story. If you haven't read Part 1 (aka _Breathe Your Life Into Me_), you'll probably still be okay reading this one, but you might not pick up on some of the subtleties and references from the first one. If you did read _Breathe_, thank you :-) I know there was a fair amount of interest in that piece, and I'm hoping for the same with this one. I do want to ask, though, that if you read please review. I'd like to hear all (polite and constructive) opinions about the story so I know what I'm doing well, what was confusing, what was so cute you squealed like a worn out brake pad, lol. And, as always, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1: To Meet or Not to Meet**

* * *

Eric was working in the Layout Room when Tim pushed the door open, a small smile perched on his lips, his brown eyes bright. Looking up from the watch he was examining, Eric noticed the look on his friend's face and couldn't resist a little teasing.

"Hey Speed," he started nonchalantly.

Tim nodded in reply, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. "Hey." He glanced over the light table at the spread of evidence and reached for a belt. "This looks promising—same width as the ligature marks on the victim's neck. I bet if we test it, we'll find some blood or skin on it."

Eric grinned at the optimism in Tim's voice. "You're very upbeat today."

Tim raised an eyebrow at him. "Upbeat?"

"Yeah," Eric chuckled. "Upbeat, positive…you're in a good mood. And I know why."

Tim's head swiveled toward the table for a moment, then back to Eric before he spoke. "You do?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"I do," Eric confirmed confidently. "You," he pointed a finger at his colleague, "were with Allyson again."

"That's your conclusion?" Tim scoffed. "Based on one ten-second observation of my mood?"

The chuckled blossomed into light laughter. "Based on three months of observations of your mood. Some days you're your grouchy normal self, but a lot of the time I can tell you're actually pretty happy, even though you try to hide it—you don't even yell at me like you used to. And I know you spend all your free time with Allyson." He shrugged and smiled, going back to the watch he was still holding. "It's a logical inference."

"Well," Tim conceded, continuing to study the belt in his hands, "at least you thought it through."

Eric laughed again. "I said it once and I'll say it again. I think she's been good for you." His expression relaxed and his voice softened. "I'm glad you found someone you can feel close to. I know how hard that is."

Tim was silent a moment before giving Eric a small nod. "Thanks."

"So are you bringing her to the party?" Eric asked, his smile returning.

Tim pressed his lips together. "Your housewarming party?" He gave a sarcastic snort. "You've lived in that condo for a year now."

"Better late than never," Eric grinned. "So are you bringing Allyson?"

Replacing the belt on the table, Tim shook his head. "No."

"Why not?" Eric persisted. "I know you're not bringing anyone else, and it would be a good chance to introduce her to your friends. We'd, uh, y'know, like to meet her."

"You mean you'd like to judge her," Tim corrected, a little of his irritation showing in his voice.

"No," Eric replied, making sure to look Tim in the eye, "we just want to get to know her—she's obviously important to you. Look, man, bring her to the party next weekend and see how it goes. If things get uncomfortable you guys can leave early and I won't be offended."

Tim considered the idea a moment before responding. "I'll talk to her about it," he decided. "If she wants to come, then we'll see. But just for the record," he continued reaching for another piece of evidence from the light table, "I'm leaving when I want to."

Eric laughed again. "I wouldn't expect anything else."

* * *

"You're sure you want to do this?" Allyson asked, noting the unease in Tim's eyes.

He nodded, placing his hand on the small of her back as they walked across the parking lot. "Yeah," he replied.

"It's high school football," she reminded him, "and you don't really like sports. I could have come with some of the other teachers or with Amanda."

"But it's a nice night, and what am I gonna do at home by myself?" he smiled. "I can handle a little football. Besides, Delko's always telling me how great the sport is, and how I should 'broaden my horizons'. The playoffs seem like a good time to do that."

She grinned, leading him into the stands beside the football field. "Well my students will appreciate the gesture," she told him, her eyes sparkling under the bright flood lights. "And so do I."

Tim's small smile grew in response as he followed Allyson through the crowd in search of a place to sit, turning over in his mind his earlier promise to Eric. "Speaking of Delko, he, uh, he's having a party next weekend," he told her, figuring he might as well get it out of the way, "a housewarming party, at his place."

"Did he move?" Allyson asked, finding an empty patch in the bleachers and sitting down, glancing out onto the field before training her eyes back on Tim.

He sat down beside her and chuckled. "Yeah, a year ago. I think he just wanted an excuse to eat, drink, and crank up his new stereo. But he invited some of his friends and people we work with."

"Sounds like fun," she smiled.

"I'm glad you think so," he told her, his eyes following hers out to the field, "because he invited you, too."

"He did?"

He heard the pure surprise in her voice and nodded once. "Yeah. Said he wanted to meet you."

"Him…and the rest of your coworkers?"

"Yeah," he repeated, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve.

Her eyes met his and held his gaze. "And what do you think about that?"

He looked at her for a long moment before answering. "Honestly? I'm actually not sure what I think about it."

"You don't want me to meet your colleagues," she deduced, reading his expression.

He frowned, trying to find the words to articulate his thoughts. "No," he said slowly. "It isn't that I don't want you to meet them, or that I don't want them to know you, it's more like…like my work life would be colliding with my private life."

"And that's weird for you," she finished for him.

He pursed his lips and kept searching for the right words. "That, and I'm not entirely sure how my friends will react to you, since we actually met while I was on the job."

The crowd went crazy at that moment, cheering and screaming when one of the home team players broke loose and ran halfway down the field before being chased down and tackled by the opposing team. Allyson clapped and yelled along with the rest of the spectators, laughing a little at Tim's semi-annoyance. Looping her arm through his, she scooted closer and grinned.

"That's the price of conversation at a sporting event," she quipped lightly.

His smile returned at her obvious excitement. "You really like this kind of thing, don't you?"

"What kind of thing? Sports?" When he nodded she continued, "Yeah, I like sports. I'm not a junkie like my cousin Emily, but I like football and hockey, a little baseball."

"Something you have in common with Eric," Tim observed. "And I bet you could talk guns and bullets with Calleigh half the night, too."

"From what you've told me about her," Allyson smiled, "she could give me quite an education."

His lips curved upward, the image of Calleigh and Allyson having an animated discussion flashing across his mind.

Allyson caught the expression. "You're starting to like the idea of me knowing your friends, aren't you?"

"Maybe." He huffed a sigh. "Do you even want to go to this party?"

"What am I gonna do at home by myself?" she teased, using his earlier words. "You came here with me tonight…and it really does kinda sound like fun. If you're ready for me to meet the CSI family, then I'm game."

He placed his hand over hers as it rested on his arm, running his thumb over her smooth skin. "Then we're on for next Saturday night."

* * *

The next day was a Saturday and, with Tim working, Allyson was spending the day with her childhood best friend Amanda Parker. The two women chatted cheerily as they moved from store to store at the mall, checking out clothes, CDs, DVDs, shoes, and anything else that caught their eyes. Spying the latest iPod model, Allyson ducked into an electronics store with Amanda close on her heals.

"Don't you already have an iPod?" she asked her friend.

Allyson nodded absently, studying the device through the security case glass. "Yeah, but Tim's always borrowing it. I was thinking of getting him one for Christmas so he'd have his own…and stop rearranging my playlists."

Amanda laughed. "You two are so cute. I bet you have plans for Thanksgiving in a couple of weeks, too, don't you?"

"Nothing definite," Allyson responded, feeling the warmth creep into her cheeks. "But I know what you're thinking and it's not like that, Manda."

"I'm thinking that the two of you care very much about each other," Amanda answered. "And that you spend a lot of time together…and that he was your knight in shining armor when you were attacked, and you're grateful to him for it."

Allyson shook her head. "You're only partially right. We do care about each other, and yeah, we spend a lot of our time together. And yes, I'm really grateful to him for his role in the investigation after my attack and the way he's treated me—but not in the way you think."

"Come on," Amanda prodded with a grin. "You mean to tell me you've never thought about him as more than just a friend?"

"Of course he's more than just a friend—next to you he's my best friend in the world," Allyson told her.

"Who you don't find at all attractive," Amanda grinned. When Allyson didn't answer, Amanda animatedly stabbed an index finger in her direction. "I knew it! Oh, I knew there was something else there!"

Allyson shook her head again. "Look, I'm not going to deny that Tim's good looking—I have eyes for God's sake. I see what you see, and yes, I like what I see. But that doesn't mean there's anything romantic going on between us."

"Yet," Amanda interjected.

"I'm not going to deny that possibility, either," Allyson decided coolly. "Because I don't know what will happen in the future, with him or with anyone else." She made sure to look her friend in the eye as she spoke the next sentence. "But my relationship with Tim is strictly platonic."

Amanda waggled her eyebrows suggestively and turned her attention to a rack of CDs. "If you say so."

"I do," Allyson told her

Amanda tried a different tactic. "So you wouldn't mind if I asked him out?"

That produced a response in Allyson neither woman expected. "If you really want to," she said, the amusement evident in her face, her voice.

"Now why is that funny?" Amanda wondered, puzzled.

"Tim's just a little…" Allyson wracked her brain for the right word. "…tame for you."

"Tame?"

Allyson nodded. "Yes, definitely. You're so ADD when it comes to guys that I think you'd be bored with him. And I don't know if he'd even go out with you."

Amanda smiled slyly, going back to the rack of CDs. "So it's okay for me to ask him out because you know he won't accept, and if he did I wouldn't want to go out with him a second time. You don't have to worry about competing with me." Allyson ignored the comment, so Amanda replied to it herself. "That's right, because there _is_ no competition. Tim only has eyes for you, doesn't he?"

"Now that," Allyson responded, "you'd have to ask him."

Amanda's smile widened. "Maybe I will."


	2. Going Public

A/N: Ready for a little fun? After a week of waiting for this update, I'm sure you are, lol. Here's Eric's housewarming party complete with cuteness and a little drama. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Going Public**

* * *

The doorbell rang inside Eric's condo as he was on his way to the kitchen to dig out another bag of ice. "Hey Alexx," he called to the Medical Examiner, who was closest to the entryway, "can you get that?"

"Sure honey," she smiled in return. Patting her husband on the shoulder, she made her way to the front door and glanced through the peephole. Smiling brightly at the pair on the other side, she turned the knob and greeted them warmly. "Hey you two, it's about time you got here."

Tim responded with an uneasy smile. "You know how traffic is this time on a Saturday night."

Alexx swung the door open wider to allow him to enter. "And you must be Allyson," she continued, studying the woman who followed Tim inside.

Allyson flashed her a cheerful smile. "I am."

"Alexx Woods," she replied extending her hand and shaking Allyson's.

"I thought so," Allyson grinned. "Tim told me how outgoing you were."

"Did he now?" she chuckled. "He talks about you, too, sugar…how the two of you are doing this or that together. It usually takes a little coaxing, though—you know how he is."

Allyson's smile softened a bit. _I knew he told Eric a little about me, but I didn't know he talked to anyone else. _"Yeah," she said aloud, "I know how he is."

Eric appeared from the kitchen and jumped into the conversation. "Hey guys, glad you could make it." He clapped Tim on the shoulder and offered a hand to Allyson. "Eric Delko."

"Allyson Brooks," she returned, shaking his hand as well. "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine," he grinned. Tim eyed him warily and Eric quickly moved the conversation along, knowing he was getting too flirty already. "Come on in, come on in. There's food over there," he gestured vaguely to the far end of the living room, "music's playing, balcony's open, drinks are in the kitchen. Help yourselves."

"Thanks," Tim answered. Then, to Allyson, "You want something to drink?"

She nodded. "Sure. Whatever you're having is good."

He slid a hand over her back and headed for the quieter kitchen, leaving Allyson in the capable hands of Alexx who ushered her further into the condo.

"So Timmy tells me you're a teacher," she said easily after introducing her husband. "What do you teach?"

"High school math," Allyson responded, "over at Southern High School."

"Oh, I know where that is," Eric replied, seeing the building in his mind's eye. "A girl I used to date worked there."

Allyson cocked an eyebrow curiously. "Anyone I know?"

"Lisa Brady?"

Her laughter had a note of surprise to it. "In the Foreign Languages Department!"

"Yeah," Eric smiled sheepishly. "She's a French teacher."

"From Massachusetts," Allyson added. "You must have been the one she was seeing…"

"…last year," he finished, catching a glimpse of Alexx's amused expression. "Until her ex-boyfriend came back to town."

"Right," Allyson chuckled. "I remember her talking about you. She was disappointed when you stopped calling her."

"Yeah, well, a three-hundred-pound professional linebacker for an ex makes you think twice about picking up the phone."

Both women laughed at that until they were interrupted by a question spoken with a jovial Southern accent.

"What's so funny?"

"Hey Calleigh," Eric greeted the blond. "Allyson and I just discovered that we had a mutual acquaintance."

"One of Eric's lady friends," Alexx clarified with a sly grin, "works with Allyson here."

Calleigh's eyes fell on the teacher and her smile faded as she recognized the woman from the case file photos. "Oh. I see."

"Allyson Brooks," Allyson introduced herself, extending her hand.

Calleigh politely, but briefly, shook it. "Tim's friend," she said tightly. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too," Allyson responded. She opened her mouth to continue, but Calleigh cut her off.

"Will you excuse me?" the CSI asked, her eyes searching the crowd. Finding the person she was looking for, she glanced at Allyson once more. "I, uh, need to go talk to someone."

"Of course," Allyson answered, watching her go. _Well, we knew someone was going to be upset when I showed up._

Intercepting Tim as he exited the kitchen with a bottle of beer in each hand, Calleigh stopped him in his tracks. "What is she doing here?"

"Who?" he asked, confused.

"Allyson Brooks," Calleigh responded evenly.

Tim frowned. "Delko invited her, I asked, and she came."

"Don't patronize me, Tim," Calleigh returned, her face expressing the anger she kept out of her voice. "You know what I mean. Why are you still in contact with her?"

"I didn't realize I needed your permission," he retorted, his frown deepening.

The volume of her voice remained unchanged, but the strain began to show through. "She's the victim in one of your cases!"

"One of my _closed_ cases," he reminded her.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. If there's even the appearance of impropriety…"

"But there isn't," he interrupted. "We haven't done anything wrong."

"Any contact with her at all can be seen as a conflict of interest, Tim," she continued. "You know that. But here you are, not only keeping in touch with her, but having a personal relationship with her! You _know_ what could happen to her case, to your career. If Stetler finds out, or anyone else at IAB, the whole Lab could suffer…"

"Don't you think I've already thought about that?" he scoffed. "Do you really think I would do something to jeopardize the Lab?"

Calleigh shook her head again, this time with a touch of sadness. "I don't know, Tim. I see the look in your eyes when you talk about her and I just don't know."

He took in a breath and held it for a moment, letting it out in an irritated sigh. "Then maybe you don't know me as well as I thought."

He made his way past her, leaving her standing there alone. Turning to follow him with her eyes, she watched him rejoin Alexx, her husband, and Eric, handing one of the beer bottles to Allyson with a genuine smile. Calleigh read Allyson's lips when she asked if everything was okay, read the expression on Tim's face when he answered. _We'll talk about it later_, his eyes said, still clearly upset with Calleigh but comforted by the thought of fleshing it out with Allyson at a more private moment.

Calleigh turned away, moving into the kitchen under the pretense of freshening her drink, keeping her head down and trying to disguise her resentment. _I hope he knows what he's doing…but I'm so afraid that he doesn't._

* * *

Tim and Allyson spent another couple of hours at the party, mingling with the other guests, stealing a few quieter minutes out on the balcony, and even dancing a little to the music Eric indeed had cranked up in the living room. Or at least, Allyson danced a little—a few times with some of the other ladies at the party and once, more slowly, with a diver from the Underwater Recovery Unit. Eventually, though, the pair grew tired and Calleigh's silent treatment became more than awkward.

Instead of heading home, though, they drove to the little stretch of almost-empty beach where they often landed when they took Tim's motorcycle out for a ride. Parking by the side of the road, the two climbed out of Allyson's car and strolled down the packed sand side by side.

They were quiet for several minutes before Allyson spoke. "So, you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" he asked. "You dancing with that diver?"

She grinned. "Do we need to talk about that?"

"You looked like you were having a good time," he observed lightly.

"I was," she agreed. "And so was Dave, I think." Her voice softened when she continued, "But that isn't what I meant."

He nodded knowingly. "Calleigh."

"Yeah."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. "I'm sorry about that, the way she behaved. She's just…she's upset because of who you are…"

She looped her arm through his. "Well, we knew it was gonna ruffle some feathers," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but it doesn't excuse her reaction to you," he countered. "I can't believe she got so mad."

"Well, Alexx and Eric didn't," Allyson said.

That brought a small smile to Tim's lips. "No, they didn't. They both got a kick out of meeting you."

"And I got a kick out of meeting them," she chuckled. "Eric's such a cutie, all sweet and warm and open. And I can't get over the fact that he was the one Lisa used to date."

"It's a good story to take to work on Monday," he told her.

"Alexx was so nice, too—exactly the way you described her," she continued. "Except you left one thing out."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "What did I leave out?"

She laughed and squeezed his arm. "That she likes to call people by pet names…Timmy."

He felt the warmth rising in his cheeks and was thankful that for the darkness. "Yeah, she does do that. She'll have one for you, too, pretty soon."

"Oh, she already does," Allyson grinned. "On the way out she said to me, 'good night, Ally, baby'. Only you and my immediate family call me Ally."

"I'll tell her to stop," he replied quickly, hoping another one of his colleagues hadn't offended her.

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it," she responded cheerily. "If Alexx feels comfortable enough using my nickname, she's welcome to it. By the end of the evening it felt like we'd been friends for ages anyway."

He smiled gently, pleased that two of his closest friends had so easily accepted her. Sliding a hand from his pocket, he reached down and clasped her fingers in his. "Sounds like you had a good time."

"I did," she nodded, squeezing his hand. "Diver Dave was a good dance partner."

He noted the teasing tone in her voice and his smile grew. "Is that what it takes to make you happy? Dancing?"

"It's not the only thing," she laughed, "but it makes the list. Why? You don't dance."

He shrugged his shoulders, smile still in place but purposefully avoiding her gaze. "Maybe I'll learn."

She grasped his arm with her free hand and giggle gleefully. "Now _that_ I'd like to see…Timmy."


	3. Sleepless in Miami

A/N: A continuation of the previous chapter...get ready to smile!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Sleepless in Miami**

* * *

"I had such a good time tonight," Allyson smiled, climbing out of the car. "The beach really was a good idea."

Tim came around the vehicle to her and slid an arm around her waist as they walked up the driveway toward her house. "Good," he told her. "That's what I was hoping for."

"What about you?" she asked, resting her hand over his on her hip.

He tilted his head slightly to one side before answering. "Calleigh aside, I guess I did, too."

"Yeah?"

He glanced at her and saw the pleased look in her eyes. "Yeah."

They stopped in front of the door but Allyson made no move to unlock it, and Tim looked at her quizzically. "Aren't you going to open it?"

She shook her head lightly. "Nah. I was thinking you might like to," she produced a key from her pocket and handed it to him, "with this."

He took it from her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Are you sure about this?" he asked gently.

"Yes," she answered confidently. "I needed to feel secure in my own home before I started giving out keys to the place, and I finally do…with you at least."

He smiled a small, appreciative smile at her words.

They stood a moment longer on the porch before she became impatient. "So are you going to try it out or what?" she chuckled.

He shook himself mentally and reached for the door, inserting his key with ease and turning it in the lock. Holding the door open for her, he followed her into the living room. "Home sweet home."

"And you need to get back to yours," she observed, glancing at the nearest clock. "It's late already."

"Well, for us it's late," he corrected. "Eleven o'clock in Miami is still early for everyone else."

"Everyone who doesn't have to get up before dawn to go to work," she added. "Be careful driving home," she continued, sliding a hand over his arm, "and I'll see you tomorrow?"

He clasped her hand in his and squeezed affectionately. "Yep," he answered. "Dinner's at seven sharp—I'm cooking."

"That should be interesting," she grinned. "I can't wait."

* * *

When Tim had gone, Allyson quickly changed into her nightgown and fell into bed, her eyes closing tiredly almost before her head hit the pillow. However, as with every other night she'd spent in this house, her level of exhaustion did nothing to help her fall asleep. She lay awake, a light breeze blowing beneath the intruder locks on the windows, the soft rustle of leaves in the tree outside a now-familiar sound that often helped to relax her. She was physically comfortable, and as psychologically at ease as she had ever been since the attack, but still she found herself unable to drift off.

"I didn't have this problem when Tim was here," she grumbled to her alarm clock. "When I couldn't sleep the week he stayed here, I'd just go out into the living room and watch TV with him."

She smiled as she recalled rising in the middle of the night, unable to sleep the first night in her new house, wandering out to the living room where he had sacked out on the couch. She had unconsciously sought him out, she knew now, feeling safe with him the way she couldn't feel with anyone else. Wide awake himself, he had welcomed her company, wrapping an arm around her and watching TV with her until the wee hours of the morning.

Allyson's smile widened in the dark as she remembered. The next morning they had woken up on the couch together, snuggled underneath a heavy blanket, TV still blinking quietly at them from across the room. She remembered the warmth of his body next to hers, the feeling of security that enveloped her lying in his arms. Despite the aches they both had experienced from the cramped couch, the scene had repeated itself the rest of the week, Allyson feeling more comfortable sleeping beside him than in her empty bed and Tim resting easier knowing for certain she was okay.

He had given her a key to his place after that first week in her new home, insisting that she come over at any time if she felt unsafe. She hadn't used it, knowing she had to fight her demons on her own in order to conquer them. Instead, she upgraded the locks on her doors, got to know her neighbors, put up heavy curtains, and installed a top of the line security system. She took self-defense classes, carried pepper spray with her everywhere—the police grade pepper spray that Tim had procured for her—and took every step she could to keep herself safe. She didn't allow Tim to stay the night after that first week, either, and turned down his offers for her to stay with him during nights that were particularly trying, knowing that she would move past this stage in her life and get to a better place if she stuck with it.

But it had been three months since the attack, two since she'd moved into this house, and she felt now that she had control of her life back. The nightmares had diminished both in frequency and intensity, the noises of the neighborhood now well-known, the helplessness she'd felt so strongly dwindling a little more with every passing day. The only symptom that remained in full force was her inability to fall asleep, and to sleep well once she managed to drift off.

Her thoughts turned again to Tim, and she remembered with all her senses what it was like sleeping beside him on the narrow couch. Turning onto her side and wrapping her arms around a pillow, she remembered the sound of his regular breathing in her ear, the rhythm of his heart as it beat under her fingertips, the tenderness with which he held her, brushing his hand over her hip, her back. She inhaled slowly and remembered his scent, sometimes cologne, sometimes aftershave, sometimes shampoo or soap or whatever he products he used in his hair, all mixed in with the smell of his skin, making him easily identifiable to her even when she was unconscious. She saw in her mind's eye his dark brown eyes looking back at her, the small, tender smile perched on his lips each morning when he woke up next to her.

Allyson hugged the pillow tighter against her, feeling both content with her memories and lonely lying in the empty bed. "Maybe this not-sleeping thing has nothing to do with the attack," she said aloud, heaving a frustrated sigh.

_Maybe I just miss Tim._

She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to lose herself again in her imagination, her heart aching a little knowing that he wasn't there with her.

_That's it_, she decided. _That's what it is—I just saw him, and I'll see him again tomorrow, but I want him here with me at night, too._

"I've never felt like this with anyone else," she murmured. "Not friends or boyfriends or family…no one."

_Then again, I've never had a relationship with anyone that's even remotely like the one he and I have._

Nuzzling her pillow, she buried her face in it and sighed again. "I wonder if he thinks of me when he's trying to sleep, too."

She turned over those words in her mind, envisioning Tim lying in bed reliving their week on the couch, and discovered she liked the idea. A warm feeling flowed through her and a smile formed on her lips as she rolled over.

_Maybe._

* * *

Just as Allyson pictured, Tim was lying in bed in his apartment wondering how she was doing alone in her house, the way he had every night since she had very sweetly kicked him off her couch two months ago. Intellectually he knew she was fine, that she was quite capable of taking care of herself, and that if she needed anything she would call him, but his protective instincts took over each time he left her and he worried anyway.

_Has she been sleeping okay? _he thought. _I know being a teacher is a hectic job, but she looked tired tonight at the party—more tired than I think she should look._

He flung his arms out to his sides and heaved a deep sigh, staring up at the ceiling, trying to see her in his mind's eye. He imagined her in one of the cotton nightgowns she liked to wear, usually green or blue, sometimes with a simple pattern, sometimes merely a solid color. All were soft to the touch, like her skin, and had matching satin trim around the neck and straps. He remembered how the garment flowed lightly around her when she moved, how his fingers brushed over the material when she laid beside him on the couch.

_I miss that_, he realized. _I miss falling asleep with her in front of the TV…and waking up with her in the morning. That had to be the best feeling in the world._

He could feel the corners of his mouth curving upward at the memory and tucked his hands behind his head.

_She cranked the air conditioner up so much it was freezing in that house. But she was warm under the blanket with me, breathing so calmly in my ear. Made me feel so much better to have her there next to me and know that she was safe._

He sighed again and turned over, flopping onto his stomach and shoving his arms underneath the pillow.

_Even if she is sleeping well some of the time, I know she still has trouble other nights, but she won't stay here or let me stay there. She does need to feel secure on her own, though—she was right about that. I just wish it wasn't so hard on her._

Another image formed in his head, this one of the two of them lying together in bed, curled up cozily, safe and content together. The smiled found its way back to his mouth and he could feel himself relax.

_She said she didn't want the sleeping-on-the-couch thing to become a habit_, he reminded himself. His smile widened in the dark as another idea developed in his mind. _But maybe we can start a new one instead._


	4. Overnight

A/N: This one picks up where the last one left off...

* * *

**Chapter 4: Overnight**

* * *

The next day when Allyson climbed into her car to drive over to Tim's apartment for their dinner date, she tossed an overnight bag into the passenger seat, something she had never done before. Tim continued to offer—and occasionally tried to coax her—to stay the night when she went over, despite her steadfast refusal to do so until her decision was no longer motivated by fear. After the previous night's revelation, though, she knew that if he offered tonight she would be free to accept, and wanted to make sure she was prepared.

She sped quickly through the streets, glancing at the clock as she pulled into the parking lot in front of his building. She was early and he was still at the lab, but she knew he was due to punch out soon. Grabbing her overnight bag, she let herself into the main door using the key he'd given her, another first, and hopped up the steps until she reached the correct floor. Rounding the corner as she'd done many times before, she found his door easily and turned the key in the lock.

Stepping into the familiar apartment, she immediately felt herself begin to relax. She smiled brightly as she moved into the living room, dropping her overnight bag on a chair on her way to the kitchen to look for a snack. Rummaging through the refrigerator, she spied the leftover Chinese takeout they had shared for dinner a few days before.

"I bet this is what he's going to 'cook'," she chuckled. "But at least I know he has a backup plan in case he actually _is_ going to cook."

Grabbing an apple and making her way back to the living room, she dropped onto the couch and flipped on the TV, waiting contentedly for Tim's return.

* * *

Tim glanced ruefully at his watch, wondering if Allyson was waiting for him in the parking lot outside his apartment or if she had gone back to her empty house to watch TV alone. He was standing on an MDPD boat, the darkness of the night cut only by the floodlights affixed to the pilothouse, his thoughts periodically interrupted by Eric surfacing from his underwater search.

"How long does it take to find a gun?" Tim muttered, fidgeting with the sleeves of his coveralls. It was the one crucial piece of evidence their most recent case was missing. Once they had it in hand, they could log it in, lock it up at the lab, and head home for the night.

A rush of water sounded from about twenty feet away and Tim looked over to see Eric swimming toward the boat.

"Tell me you found something," Tim begged wearily.

Eric removed his goggles and mouthpiece, shaking the water out of his ears. "I found something alright," he told his colleague, dropping an object onto the deck of the boat.

Tim bent down and examined it closely for a moment. When he realized what it was, he huffed an impatient sigh and stood, tossing the object into the reject pile. "This is the fifth cell phone you've found tonight."

"I know," Eric replied, wrinkling his nose.

Tim's arms folded over his chest. "You're supposed to find the gun."

Eric chuckled, pulling his goggles back over his eyes. "I know that, too."

* * *

It was several more hours before Tim slowly climbed the stairs to his apartment, pushing the door open tiredly and dropping his keys and wallet on the nearest table. His gun and badge followed, his boots the next casualty, tossed in a pile next to the door with his motorcycle helmet.

Sighing heavily, he turned away from the door, thinking how great a hot shower would feel after being out in the swamp all night. He stopped only a few steps into the room, though, when he caught sight of the overnight bag on the chair. Moving more quietly, he crept further into the living room, his eyes sweeping over the couch where he found a sleeping Allyson curled up in front of the television.

_She's here?_

Kneeling down beside her, he ran a hand gently over her arm. "Ally…" He was rewarded with a pair of bright blue eyes blinking back at him a moment later. Brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, he trailed his thumb softly across her cheek. "Hey…is everything okay? Did you have a nightmare? Did something happen at the house?"

She studied his face, a smile forming on her lips. "No," she answered sleepily, her heart warming at his touch. "I'm fine…everything's fine." A yawn escaped from her mouth and she covered it, stretching her arms a little in the process and taking his hand in one of hers. "I just missed you," she explained simply. "The house seemed so empty—not scary or oppressive or threatening…just lonely. So I decided to stay here and wait for you instead of going back home."

He smiled a small smile, more than a little amazed that she had waited so long merely for his company, even at this stage in their friendship. "You waited for me here."

"Yeah." She yawned again and sat up, releasing his hand and stretching once more. "I thought you'd be home earlier."

He pressed his lips together and dropped down onto the couch beside her, exhaling sharply. "I was supposed to be. But instead I spent five hours on a boat in a swamp looking for a gun."

"That explains the smell," she chuckled, touching her forehead to his shoulder.

"At least it wasn't a dumpster this time…or worse."

Her chuckle grew as she lifted her head. "And thank God for that." She patted his knee and rose to her feet. "I'll let you get cleaned up, and I know you're going straight to bed after that."

He stood, too. "You're not going home, are you?"

"I need to get to bed, too," she reminded him, glancing at the clock on the entertainment center, "and it's not like I live that far away."

"Yeah, but I don't want you driving this time of night with all the crazies," he replied quickly. "You're already here, and you brought your stuff with you for tomorrow this time…you might as well stay." She opened her mouth to speak but he continued before she got the chance. "And don't think you're sleeping on the couch either," he told her firmly. "That thing'll kill your back—I'm surprised you're not sore already."

She hefted her overnight bag from the chair she had left it in and raised an eyebrow at him. "So you're going to sleep on it instead?"

"No," he responded matter-of-factly. "Because if I'm out here—given our previous pattern at your place—you'll be out here at some point, too. So," he slid a hand into place on the small of her back and steered her toward the hallway, "you can go get changed and crawl into bed, and I'll be there in a few minutes."

Fifteen minutes later Tim entered the bedroom, freshly showered and clad in a clean pair of plaid pajama pants and a well-worn t-shirt. Allyson was already sleeping soundly in his bed, buried under the covers because he had cranked up the air conditioner, remembering her penchant for sleeping in the cold. She was lying on her side, her long hair splashed across the pillow, a pale hand clutching the comforter under her chin, her face tranquil in unconsciousness. Pausing a moment, he stood in the doorway and just looked at her, allowing his eyes to take in every detail of her sleeping form.

_Maybe I didn't come into her life in the most positive way, but I am the luckiest man on earth to be a part of it now._

He smiled softly to himself and climbed into bed, careful not to disturb her peaceful slumber but unable to entirely resist physical contact with her. His lips found her forehead in a gentle kiss before he settled in beside her. "Good night, Ally."

* * *

When Tim awoke the next morning, he was greeted with a familiar yet unexpected scent. It wasn't fruity or perfumey, nor was it sweet or spicy, but it was distinctly feminine and immediately comforting. He found himself smiling and reaching for its source, discovering her lying mere centimeters from him. Her hand rested on his chest, her forehead positioned against his shoulder as though she were unconsciously nuzzling him the way she often did when she was awake.

His smile widened and he brushed a wayward lock of hair from her eyes. _What a nice way to wake up._

His movement roused her from the last tenets of sleep, and Allyson's eyelids fluttered open. Recognizing Tim, her lips curved into a smile to match his.

"'Morning," he murmured, his voice deep with morning gruffness.

"'Morning," she returned softly.

"Sleep okay?" he asked.

She nodded into the pillow. "Your bed is softer than mine…" Her voice trailed off as she noticed how close she was to him and where her hand had come to rest. "…and I guess I got pretty comfortable."

"That's a good thing, though, right?" he asked her, clasping her hand against his chest. "That you can come over here and be this comfortable?"

"Of course," she affirmed. "I slept so much better last night here next to you than I have since…well, since our week on the couch when I moved into the house." A sheepish expression crept over her features. "But I guess I forgot to mention the fact that I'm a bit of a cuddly sleeper. The couch was one thing—it's so narrow—but it didn't occur to me that I'd be so cuddly in your bed, too." She grinned merrily. "I guess you're lucky you didn't wake up with me draped all over you."

"I wouldn't have minded if you had," he confessed, feeling warmth rising in his cheeks. "I have to admit, I slept a lot better with you here last night, too." He pulled her closer to him and wrapped an arm around her, contentment swirling through him when she responded by laying her head on his shoulder. "And, for the record, I fell asleep over there," he told her, gesturing to the empty space next to him. "So apparently I'm a cuddly sleeper, too."

She laughed lightly at his use of her terminology. "There's a word I would have bet money you'd never use."

"What?" he asked innocently. "'Apparently'?"

She grinned into his chest. "You're such a smartass, you know that?"

"Yeah," he replied, drawing out the word as his fingers slid through the curls down her back. "It's one of the things you love about me."

She responded by planting a warm kiss on the material of his shirt. "You know I do."

His heart swelled in direct proportion to the widening of the smile on his face as he searched for a reply. Unable to find adequate words he tightened his arms around her and nuzzled her cheek, his eyes closing blissfully when she nuzzled back.


	5. Different

A/N: I was hoping to get this one up earlier, but there was one little part that just wouldn't cooperate. But all is well now...and so cute! Have fun with this one--I sure did :-P

* * *

**Chapter 5: Different**

* * *

From that morning on something in Tim and Allyson's relationship changed, becoming subtly different from what it had been only twenty-four hours before. Allyson found herself humming softly as she put her hair up in preparation for work, Amanda's sarcastic words from a week ago rolling through her mind.

"_A friend…who you don't find at all attractive."_

She grinned at her reflection in the mirror, allowing thoughts of a pajama-clad Tim to invade her consciousness. Though he claimed not to work out at the gym, the worn t-shirt he slept in revealed a strong chest and arms, his plaid pants encircling a trim waist and firm legs. But just like their week sleeping on the couch, it was his eyes that had captivated her the most this morning, so dark but so expressive. Looking into them, she felt as though she were looking directly into his soul and he into hers. Butterflies formed in her stomach as the images flashed across her brain and her grin softened.

Moments later Tim poked his head into the open bathroom door. "You almost ready?" he asked, stepping behind her and studying her reflection in the mirror. "You gotta go soon or you'll be late for work."

She gave him a little nod, pushing the last pin into place. "Yep."

Resting his hands on her shoulders he smiled a small, almost shy smile. "Okay." He squeezed her affectionately, allowing his fingers to slide slowly over her shirt when he released her.

She turned slightly to watch him go, resuming her humming as her eyes swept over his retreating form, her own smile spreading once again across her face.

* * *

Later that evening they met up again for a field trip to the firing range, and Allyson noted the butterflies that almost instantly returned in Tim's presence. _This is going to be interesting._

They were greeted by Tim's friend behind the counter, who was waiting with ear and eye protection for them. "Hey guys."

"Hey." Tim handed Nick his unloaded weapon to check over per range rules and scrawled his name across the bottom of the safety waiver.

"You shooting the .38 today?" the range master asked Allyson as she took the pen from Tim to sign her own waiver. "You're getting to be quite good with the bigger caliber now."

"Actually," she answered, "I was thinking that I might try out a nine mil today."

"You want one of ours, or are you gonna shoot Tim's?"

"Mine," Tim responded, casting a sidelong glance at Allyson. "We'll both use mine."

"You got it." Nick retrieved a couple of boxes of ammunition for them and filed their waivers away, sending them off to the firing line with a slew of paper targets and good luck wishes.

The pair trolled the line for an open lane, settling for one in the middle instead of their usual place on the end. Tim watched as Allyson carefully loaded the magazine and inserted it into his gun, pulling back the slide to chamber a round. As she worked he kept thinking how it was both comforting and strangely alluring to see her handle the weapon. _I like that she'll be able to use it if the need arises, but why is the image of Ally with my gun so hot?_

"All set," she told him, snapping him out of his reverie.

As he had each time she handled a new firearm, he positioned himself behind her, wrapping his hands around hers on the grip. "Ready?"

"Yeah," she answered.

"Bigger gun…"

"…bigger kick," she finished, remembering the difference in the force of the recoil of each successively larger gun she'd used. She nodded once and placed her finger on the trigger, squeezing off one round and sending it into the target twenty-five yards away. As predicted, the gun kicked harder than the weapons she'd handled before and she felt Tim's hands hold hers firmly.

"We got it," he said confidently, his lips brushing against her ear.

She adjusted her grip under his, a hint of his cologne causing a momentary break in her concentration. She shook herself mentally and tried to focus. "Yeah, we got it." Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly to steady herself. "Okay, here we go."

Beneath his hands, he felt her pull the trigger, felt the gun jerk, and this time Allyson was ready for it. She controlled the weapon better and reset quickly, letting loose another round, then another. "That's my girl," he told her proudly.

She shot a few more rounds into the target before he released her, stepping back to allow her to shoot on her own. Without his arms around her she suddenly felt lonely, an emotion that confused her. _How can I possibly miss him when he's not even three feet behind me?_

He noticed her hesitation, noticed the weapon waiver a tiny bit in her hands and wondered what she was thinking. _Is she thinking about this morning? 'Cause I have been all day—can't get the picture out of my head. It just felt right to lay there with her in my arms…_

The sound of silence jolted him from his musing and, looking downrange, he realized Allyson had emptied the remainder of the magazine into her target. "Not bad, huh?" she asked, flashing him a smile.

Tim reached above her and hit the electric switch to retrieve the paper villain, studying it as it came toward them. "Not bad at all," he agreed. "You look comfortable with it, too."

"Yeah," she nodded. "It's big," she continued, turning the unloaded weapon over in her hands, "and it's harder for me to hold and control, but I'm getting the hang of it. I know it fits nicely in those big hands of yours, though."

He smiled softly, closing the distance between them once again and reaching around her for another magazine. "Just like you do."

Her heart skipped a beat as his hand brushed against hers, and the butterflies in her stomach began to multiply. _Yeah, not at all attractive._

* * *

Later that evening, after Tim's gun had been broken down, cleaned, and reassembled, the two of them relocated to her kitchen to cook dinner. As they worked, they found themselves in the midst of a good-natured argument over music, a topic both held near and dear to their hearts.

"No way, Tim," Allyson protested, turning away from the counter to waive an accusing finger at him. "I know you like Lynyrd Skynyrd, but Gary Rossington is not the best guitarist of all time."

"You've got to be kidding," he complained, clasping her hand in his and lowering it out of the way. "'Tuesday's Gone'? 'Free Bird'? And I know you like 'On the Hunt'."

"Yeah, I like those songs," she conceded, "And the guitar solos and riffs are great in all of 'em, but he's still not the greatest of _all time_."

He folded his arms across his chest and smirked at her. "Okay, if not Gary, then who?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Try Eric Clapton." Pausing a moment, she chuckled and began listing more alternatives on her fingers. "Or Carlos Santana, or Jimi Hendrix, or B.B. King, or Jimmy Page, or Chuck Berry…"

A pleased smile formed on his lips and his dark eyes twinkled back at her. "I know," he admitted sheepishly. "There've been a lot of great guitarists over the years. It's just too easy and way too much fun to bait you."

She swatted him playfully, her chuckle blossoming into cheerful laughter. "Oh, I know it is. And I always take the bait, too. I just can't let an argument go if I think I'm right…but neither can you."

"That's true." He bowed his head onto her shoulder in mock shame. "I can't help myself." Allyson felt his lips curving into a larger smile, felt them brush warmly against the cool skin of her neck, his stubbly cheek coming to rest against her smooth one as his hands found her hips. "You just bring it out in me."

She nuzzled him in response, her fingers combing through his hair. "'Cause I'm sure I'm the only one you argue with," she grinned softly.

Adrenaline flooded his system at her touch. _Is this really happening? _His reply to her came in a low voice. "You're the only one I like to argue with."

Her eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her temple tenderly, then her cheek, before pausing at the edge of her mouth. Not wanting him to stop she tilted her face toward him, closing the minute gap between them as his lips found hers. There were no stars or fireworks, no immediate shortness of breath or bolts out of the blue, no sudden epiphanies when they connected, however. Instead, there was an easiness to the kiss, sweet and loving and effortless, as though they'd done it hundreds of times before and still cherished every moment of contact.

They pulled each other closer, arms wrapping around one another, hands slowly caressing exposed skin as the kiss became deeper. Gradually the pair gave in to what was happening between them, what had probably been happening between them for some time, and realized how natural it felt to be romantic together.

Running a hand through her hair, Tim broke free, separating himself from Allyson by only the smallest fraction of an inch to whisper in her ear. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he breathed, moving to the other side of her neck, his lips lightly grazing her jaw on the way.

Her heart fluttered as much at the tone of his voice as the words themselves, and she smiled demurely, unable to find words for a verbal response. Seconds later his mouth found a sensitive spot near her collarbone and she reflexively pulled away, her smile quickly becoming a surprised giggle.

His eyes met hers and he saw the sparkle there. "Ticklish?"

"It would appear so," she observed with a grin.

He raised an eyebrow slyly in response. "Then I'll have to remember that spot." Closing the gap between them once again, his lips captured hers once, twice more before relinquishing their hold on her.

She leaned her forehead against his and smiled warmly. "I guess this means we need to have the 'I think of you as more than a friend' talk, huh?"

That earned her a small laugh from Tim, his hand gently brushing a wisp of her hair out of the way. "Uh, yeah. If we didn't this morning, we definitely do now."

Neither moved for a long moment, until finally Tim cleared his throat and straightened up, cupping Allyson's face in one of his large hands and running his thumb over her cheek. She followed suit with a small sigh, clasping his hands in hers and squeezing them.

"So there's definitely something going on here," he ventured, "and it's not just keeping each other company anymore."

"It never really was, though, was it?" she replied, searching his brown eyes with her blue ones.

He shook his head slowly. "In the very beginning it was a professional relationship, but we got close pretty quickly."

"We did," she seconded. "But the question now is, how close?"

He pursed his lips in thought, casting his eyes down at their hands while he tried to find an answer. "If you're asking me if I'm in love with you…" He shook his head and blew out a breath, frustrated with his inability to articulate his feelings. He felt her squeeze his hand again, encouraging him without words, and he started over. "All I know," he said, his eyes finding hers once more, "is that everything feels right when I'm with you, Ally…and nothing feels right without you."

The blue of her eyes shone radiantly as she struggled to find a response. When a verbal one didn't come she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, running her fingers through his hair and nuzzling his neck. A small smile settled on his lips, the one that, despite its diminutive size, revealed just how supremely happy he really was at that moment. Snaking his arms around her waist he held her impossibly closer, his eyes closing blissfully as she kissed him.

When they parted, he gave her a questioning look. "So this is a good thing?"

"Yes," she responded decisively, looking directly into his dark eyes. "Of course, a romantic relationship with me could make things more complicated for you at work."

He sighed tiredly, practically hearing Calleigh's voice in his head launching into a new tirade about why he shouldn't be with Allyson. "Yeah, it might." He looked down into her bright eyes and felt his expression softening, knowing he'd do anything for her no matter the consequences. "But I'll deal with whatever happens." _I need you more than I've ever needed anyone, and I'm not giving you up._

She heard the unspoken thought in his voice and her heart fluttered again, her contented smile returning as she leaned up for another kiss.


	6. Together

A/N: More cuteness for you this evening. I'm not sure when I'll get the next part finished and posted--I have family obligations all through the holidays--but I'll get it up here as soon as I can. Until then, enjoy this :-)

* * *

**Chapter 6: Together**

* * *

The pair managed to finish cooking dinner, though not without a whole host of sly glances and gentle caresses as they moved around the kitchen. Locking of twinkling eyes produced delighted smiles and small kisses all the way through the meal, the little awkward moments that normally accompanied the morphing of a friendship conspicuously absent.

_Guess that happens when two people know each other as well as we do_, he thought, rinsing off a plate before placing it in the dishwasher.

Her hand ran over his back as she returned from the dining room with the remains of the stir fry they hadn't quite finished off. _It's always been so easy to be _around_ him…makes sense that it would be easy to be _with_ him, too._

When they finished cleaning up Tim took Allyson's hand and led her into the living room, plopping down on the couch and pulling her onto his lap. She reached for the remote and flipped on the TV as she cuddled against him, scanning the channels and settling on a movie they had both already seen. It didn't matter, she knew—neither of them would be paying attention to the television anyway.

They spent the rest of the evening that way, arms wound around each other, cheeks resting against one another. One of his hands came to rest on her thigh, the other nearby on her hip as her fingers played absently with the material of his shirt. When her breathing slowed and her fingers ceased moving, he brushed his lips against her ear.

"You still awake?"

She nodded slowly, stifling a yawn. "You?"

"Barely," he acknowledged. "Probably should go to bed."

"Yeah, we had a lot of excitement today," she teased.

He grinned. "And a lot more to come." He paused a moment before asking his next question. "Do you want me to go?"

This time she shook her head, the locks of her hair tickling his neck. "Do you want to go?"

"No," he whispered. "I want to stay here with you."

She smiled softly. "Then stay."

His lips found hers in a gentle kiss, then broke into a matching smile. _Things are so simple with her. _"Okay."

They sat together a minute longer, neither wanting to break contact with the other. It was Allyson's practical side that finally won out, convincing her to drag herself off the couch before they spent the night on it again. Grabbing both of Tim's hands she pried him up as well. "Come on Tiger," she chuckled.

He rose reluctantly, fueled only by his desire to sleep with Allyson in his arms. "Tiger?"

Walking backwards, she squeezed his hands and guided him toward her bedroom. "Okay, so I'll keep working on the nickname."

"What's wrong with 'Tim'?" he asked, slipping his arms around her waist as they moved.

"Nothing," she replied. "It's just a thing we tend to do in my family. Nicknames are a way we show affection for each other, and I wanted to give you one that no one else uses."

He smiled the small yet overwhelmingly happy smile that only she brought to his lips, and drew her closer. "You don't have to give me a nickname for me to know how much you care about me," he told her. "And besides, I like the way my name sounds when you say it."

"You do?"

He detected a note of recognition in her voice along with the surprise, as though she could identify with his statement. "Yeah."

"I know what you mean." Backing into the bedroom and flicking the light switch, she laced her fingers behind his neck and stood up on her tiptoes. "My stomach does a little flip every time you call me 'Ally'," she whispered in his ear. She planted a kiss on his jaw and released him, heading for the closet and reaching for her nightgown.

Slightly stunned but undeniably pleased, his eyes followed her across the room, watching with marked interest when her shirt lifted up and exposed the fair skin of her abdomen. He found himself gravitating toward her, his hands reaching out to touch the bare skin, her lips curving into a pleased grin when they made contact. He turned her around and met her sparkling blue eyes with his dark brown ones, running his thumbs over her stomach as the material of her shirt fell back into place.

"You're enjoying that way too much," she told him, giggling a little.

Leaning down to kiss her, he smiled almost cheerfully. "So're you…Ally." His laugh was low and throaty, but halted abruptly when his fingers discovered a patch of skin that felt different from the rest.

Allyson saw the question in his face before he asked it. "It's a scar," she explained quietly, raising her shirt up again so she could see her abdomen.

"From one of the stab wounds," Tim added, remembering clearly the injuries he had photographed the day of her attack.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "The superficial cuts healed a while ago and pretty much disappeared, but the four deep ones left some distinct scars."

He tenderly fingered the mark again before removing his hands and settling them on her hips. "I'm sorry, I didn't—

"It's okay," she assured him dropping her shirt back into place. "I see them every day, and I'm not ashamed of them. They're proof that I lived, that I'm every bit as strong as you always believed I was."

He nodded in agreement. "That much is definitely true," he replied softly, sliding his arms around her and leaning in again for a kiss. "I don't know anyone who's tougher than you are."

His lips found hers gently, his adoration expressed so unmistakably as he held her, her hands sliding slowly over his chest in response. Upon reaching his collar one slipped inside to caress his neck, feeling the warmth of his body in the tips of her fingers before they encountered a smooth cord. She picked it up, separating her mouth from his and smiling in recognition.

"Those are the saints' medals I gave you."

He glanced down as she palmed the medallions. "Yeah. I wear 'em every day."

"You didn't have them on last night," she told him, "or when we woke up this morning. I would have noticed."

"I can't sleep with them on," he explained. "I get all tangled up." He flashed back to the two of them lying in his bed, her head pillowed comfortably against his shoulder, her hand clasped in his against his chest. "But you were definitely close enough to notice," he teased.

"And that was before you kissed me," she grinned, her hand slipping inside his collar again. "Imagine what tonight's going to be like."

"I don't have to," he declared. "Because in twenty minutes or less I will _actually_ be laying next to you."

She laughed lightly. "And this time you might _actually_ wake up with me draped all over you."

He brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes, allowing his fingers to trail softly over her scalp and neck. "Here's hoping."

* * *

When Allyson returned from the bathroom Tim was pulling back the covers on her bed, tossing away the extra pillow she often held in her arms while she slept.

"You're not changed," she observed, dropping her clothes from the day into the laundry basket.

He lifted his eyes and paused at the sight of her. She had taken her hair down, allowing it to pool around her shoulders and curl down her back. The nightgown she was wearing was the same shade of blue as her eyes, loose enough to be comfortable but still fitted enough to show off the contours of her body. It fell to just above her knees from simple spaghetti straps, and absolutely took his breath away.

"Tim? You okay?"

"Uh, yeah," he managed to respond, clearing his throat. "I'm fine."

"And not changed," she repeated.

He glanced down at the clothes he was wearing. "No."

"Where's your overnight stuff?"

He blinked a few times. "At my place."

The slightly dazed expression on his face earned him a chuckle from Allyson as she crossed the room and sat down on the bed. "So what are you going to sleep in?"

He thought that one over a moment. "My boxers I suppose. Unless that bothers you."

"No problems here," she smirked. She watched him reach for the buttons on his shirt, opening the first few before stopping and shooting her an inquisitive look. "What?" she asked innocently.

"If you're gonna leer I'll sleep on the couch."

"And I'll end up right out there with you," she reminded him merrily. "But if it makes you feel better, I won't watch you get undressed." She swung her feet over the side of the bed and grabbed a bottle of lotion from the nightstand, squeezing a small amount into her hand and applying it to her legs. "What are you going to do in the morning?"

"I guess I'll stop by the apartment," he replied, opening the rest of the buttons and peeling off his shirt. "Shower and change there before I go to the lab."

She chuckled, hearing the clinking of his belt buckle. "If you get up early enough."

"I will," he insisted.

Picking up the lotion again, she squeezed more into the palm of her hand and rubbed it over her arms, listening to the chiming of the saints' medals knocking together as he pulled the cord over his head. "And what if you don't?"

"Then I'll shower here and wear these clothes again tomorrow," he stated matter-of-factly, dropping down onto the bed and pulling the sheet up.

She finished with the lotion and replaced the bottle on the nightstand, crawling into bed beside him. Her eyes roamed over his upper body as she shifted positions and she felt herself becoming warm in response. "Won't your coworkers notice?" she asked, thankful she was laying down when her knees went weak.

"Probably," he admitted. "They are CSIs."

She propped head up on one elbow and waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't, she continued, "What are you going to tell them?"

His eyes met hers from his pillow. "I don't know." He took her free hand in his and clasped it to his chest. "Maybe that's something we should talk about."

"Yeah," she replied, squeezing his hand, "we definitely should. Things changed so fast… This morning when we woke up we were just friends, and now we're, uh, not."

A soft smile spread over his face as he brought her fingers to his lips for a kiss. "Nope."

"Do you even know what you want out of our relationship?" she asked curiously. "I mean, we haven't really had time to think about it."

"I don't need time to think about it," he told her contentedly. "I want to be with you. Period. I don't care how fast or slow we go, or what label we give it, or what anyone else thinks about it. I just want us to be together."

Her lips formed a smile to match his. "Well you're two for two on great answers to the big questions," she responded, her eyes shining. "I thought you weren't very good with words."

"I'm not," he insisted, his eyebrows drawing together. "I'm just telling you how I feel."

"And that's what makes them great answers," she explained. "There's no pretense or game playing, you just tell me how it is. You always have." She leaned down and kissed him gently, feeling his smile grow as he kissed her back. "And I happen to agree with you—the only thing that's important is that we're together. The rest we can figure out as we go along."

His fingers threaded through her long hair, his arms snaking around her as he pulled her to him, a thrill flowing through him when she cuddled against his body. "But tonight," he said softly, wondering how he ever got to be so lucky, "we sleep."

"Tonight we sleep," she echoed contentedly, wondering, too, how she had become so blessed. "Together."


	7. Making Plans

A/N: I know I kinda disappeared for a while, but real life got in the way big time and I had to deal with some pretty major issues. But life is so much less fun without my favorite fandoms, so I found the time to jump back into the story. Here's a little togetherness for you, as Allyson and Tim's relationship continues to grow :-)

* * *

**Chapter 7: Making Plans**

* * *

Tim stood in the laundry room in Allyson's house, bent over the washing machine throwing handfuls of dirty clothes into the tumbler. In went his shirts and Allyson's blue jeans, his socks and her slacks. He chuckled to himself, realizing how strange it was that washing their things together wasn't strange at all.

_Just like our first kiss,_ he marveled. _It feels perfectly natural for me to be doing our laundry while she hangs up the pictures we picked out together._

His thoughts were interrupted when he reached down for another handful of clothes and discovered one of Allyson's cotton nightgowns. Dropping the other articles, he held the light garment up by the straps, flashing back to the day of her attack. He had stood in the Layout Room at the lab in the same way, examining a similar nightgown for evidence of the man that had tried to kill her. _She trusted me then to find him and make sure he got what he deserved._

A small smile developed on his lips as a new image formed in his mind, one of Allyson lying beside him in bed, his fingers trailing over the satin trim. _And she trusts me now with a lot more._

"Hey Tim…c'mere a minute," he heard her call from the living room.

He quickly stuffed the rest of the laundry into the machine and dumped in a cupful of detergent, turning the dial and lowering the lid. When he reached the living room, his eyes automatically searched for Allyson. "What's up?"

She was standing on a kitchen chair in front of the far wall, a hammer in one hand and a box of nails at her feet. "Do these look okay here?" she asked, stepping down carefully to avoid the nails.

His gaze lingered on her as she approached him, his smile returning as she looped her arm through his. Flicking his eyes back to the wall she'd been working on, he asked, "Those the pictures we bought the other day?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded. "What do you think?"

"I like 'em there," he told her sincerely. "You've got good taste."

She grinned in response. "In pictures and in men." Tim shoved his hands in his pockets as the color began to creep into his cheeks, and Allyson laughed lightly, patting his chest. "See? So cute." Leaning up and kissing him, she then released him to gather up her hammer and nails, changing the subject as she moved. "You know, my kids at school reminded me that Thanksgiving is coming up."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, following her across the room and picking up the chair she had been standing on. "Your kids reminded you? Because you didn't remember."

She flashed him a smirk. "Of course I remembered—they're just very excited for the time off and keep bringing it up in class."

"So," he replied, carrying the chair back to its place in the dining room, "do we have plans yet?"

She smiled softly, opening the hall closet around the corner where she kept her tools. _He said "we" without even thinking about it. _"I figured we should talk about it together."

"What do you normally do?" he asked, taking the nails and hammer from her and placing them on the shelf she couldn't reach.

"Amanda sometimes comes over and we cook dinner, watch football," she told him, leaning against the wall. "What about you?"

He leaned against the same wall, his dark lashes sweeping over his cheeks. "Work," he answered, exhaling slowly. "Delko's mom usually feels sorry for me and sends him over with a plate of food," he chuckled. "But otherwise, I'm at the lab."

"What about this year?"

He took her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "I took the day off."

Her smile lit up the hallway. "So turkey and football here?"

Sliding his arm around her shoulders and leading her back to the living room, he dropped down onto the couch and pulled her close. "Just the three of us?"

"Unless there's someone else we should invite," she replied, relaxing against him. "Eric, maybe…or Alexx…Horatio…Calleigh?"

"Calleigh?" he snorted. "After the way she behaved at Delko's party?"

"She has every right to be upset, Tim," she told him. "We even planned on people not reacting well to me because I was the victim in one of your cases, remember?"

He pressed his lips together. "Yeah, but I didn't think it would be one of my friends," he explained quietly. "She knows me well enough to know that I might push the envelope sometimes, but I would never do _anything_ to jeopardize a case or the lab."

"Maybe she does know that," Allyson responded, playing devil's advocate. "Maybe she was just shocked at seeing me out with you."

Tim frowned. "Maybe, but I don't think Thanksgiving dinner is the time to find out. Or for her to find out that we're together now."

"Good point," she conceded. "What about the others?"

"Eric's family has their own celebration," he answered, "but he might come over to watch the later football game, since you and Amanda will be watching it. Alexx has her husband and kids…but I don't know about H. He might be having Thanksgiving with Yelina and his nephew or he might be alone."

"Would it be weird having your boss over?" she wondered.

He tilted his head to one side, his cheek coming to rest against her hair. "For some people, I'm sure it would be."

"But it's different at the lab, isn't it?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, allowing his mind to process her words. Then, "I'll ask him tomorrow when I see him."

"And you'll—"

"—call as soon as I find out," he chuckled.

"I have to know how much food to buy," she defended lightly. "And besides, I'm a planner," she laughed, patting his leg. "It's in my DNA."

He smiled in return, kissing her hair and squeezing her shoulders. "I know."

She was quiet for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Tim so close to her, before she spoke again. "You think we should tell them about us?"

"Tell who?"

She shrugged. "Anyone…everyone, I don't know. I'm thinkin', though, that whoever is over for Thanksgiving is going to figure it out."

_I'll be the one to give it away_, he thought sheepishly. _As soon as they see the way I look at you, they'll know. _Aloud he replied, "True. But—"

"—we don't need to go completely public," she finished with an understanding nod. "Especially around the lab."

"It's not that I'm ashamed," he added quickly, making sure to catch and hold her gaze. "It's just no one's business but ours."

She smiled reassuringly. "I know—you're all about the low profile. And it makes sense. Why go looking for trouble?"

"Yeah," he agreed, running his fingers gently over her shoulder. "So close friends only?"

Allyson grinned, picturing Amanda's enthusiastic reaction to the news. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

The next day, Tim stood in the Fingerprint Lab with Eric lifting some thirty sets of prints for their most recent case. Their conversation hovered mainly around work items, but as the lifting and scanning rolled on they turned to more personal subjects.

"So how's Allyson doing?" Eric asked, a sly smile on his lips.

Tim kept his head down when he answered, his eyes trained on the tape-lifter in his hands. "She's good."

"Just good?" Eric persisted.

Tim carefully folded the lifter shut before gazing pointedly at his friend. "Were you expecting something else?"

Eric chuckled, going back to the eyeglasses he was working on. "I just know you've been spending a lot of time with her since my party."

"Yeah, well," Tim drew in a breath and let it out slowly, "you tend to do that when you're seeing someone."

"You two are…you're together?" Eric stuttered.

Tim raised an eyebrow at him. "You sound surprised," he deadpanned. "And here I thought you had me all figured out."

Eric's smile returned. "I'm surprised it took you this long," he tossed back. "I thought you two would have gotten together before now." He watched his colleague pick up a wallet and reach for a fingerprint brush, then decided to go for it and ask the question that had immediately jumped into his mind. "So, how serious are you?"

Tim laid down the wallet and brush, folding his arms across his chest and lowering his eyes. "It's not…" He pressed his lips together, his forehead wrinkling as he tried to come up with the right words. "It's not just dating," he managed. "But I don't know what else to call it.

"What does she think?"

A tiny smile formed on Tim's lips at the memory of his bedtime discussion with Allyson. "We talked about it—decided we'd just be together."

"Just be together?" Eric repeated skeptically. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means," Tim glared, "that I care a lot for her, and she feels the same way about me. It means we're together…that she's my—"

"Speed." Both men turned to find Horatio standing in the doorway, looking expectantly at them. "Can I have a word?"

"Sure H." With a glance at Eric, Tim nodded and turned toward his boss, meeting him at the door. "What's up?"

"Well I came to ask about the Toritti case, but I think there's something else we need to talk about first," Horatio responded, a bit of fatherly concern in his voice.

Tim nodded again. "Allyson."

"Allyson," Horatio agreed.

"You overhead me and Delko talking?" When Horatio confirmed that with a nod of his own, Tim continued, "So you know how I feel about her."

Horatio frowned in thought. "I think I do, yes." He paused a moment, carefully choosing his words just as Tim had done. "But, uh…is it really a good idea, the two of you?"

Tim immediately became defensive. "We're not doing anything wrong!" he insisted quietly, trying not to draw the attention of two techs walking down the hallway.

Horatio stepped further into the Fingerprint Lab and closed the door, mindful, too, of prying ears. "No one is saying you are…"

"Look," Tim interrupted, remembering all too well how Calleigh had reacted to Allyson, "nothing improper happened while the case was open, and Aaron Polanski agreed to a plea, so he has no right to appeal. I'll never have to testify, so there's no conflict of interest."

Horatio noted the vehemence with which his subordinate spoke. "You've thought this through."

"Hundreds of times," Tim affirmed. "I don't want to jeopardize Ally's case or the reputation of this lab, H, but I'm not going to just stop seeing her, either."

"Okay, no one's asking you to," Horatio responded gently. "I just want to make sure you know what you're doing—" Tim opened his mouth to speak, but the older CSI held up a hand to stop him, "—and it's very clear that you do."

His last phrase seemed to calm Tim. "I do…_we_ do."

"And you really care about this girl?"

The small smile returned to Tim's lips. "Yeah." He let that hang in the air a moment, then remembered the plans he and Allyson had discussed. "In fact, we're having Thanksgiving together."

Horatio smiled gently, seeing the affection in the younger man's eyes. "That's great, Speed. That's great."

Tim relaxed visibly, having encountered none of the resistance he was expecting. "And, actually, Ally and I were thinking you might want to join us…y'know, if you don't already have plans."

"You're inviting me to Thanksgiving dinner?" Horatio asked softly.

"Yeah."

His smiled widened. "I'd love to, Speed, but, uh…I do have plans."

Tim saw the light in his supervisor's blue eyes and drew his own conclusion. "Family," he replied knowingly.

"Family," Horatio echoed. After a brief pause, he shifted subjects back to the matter at hand. "So tell me about the Toritti case."

Tim gave him an update on the work that he and Eric had accomplished, sending him on his way to chase down a new lead with the detectives. Turning back to where Eric was still dusting, he lowered his chin and stepped up to the table. "That invitation goes for you, too."

"What?" Eric asked innocently.

"Don't pretend like you didn't just listen to that entire conversation," Tim scolded. "I know your family has their thing, but Ally and I thought you might like to come watch the game after dinner."

Eric laughed. "You're watching football?"

Tim decided to ignore his tone. "Ally's watching football."

The smiled remained on Eric's face as he reached for a lifter. "I knew I liked her."

* * *

When he had a few minutes free, Tim flipped open his phone and hit the speed dial number he'd reserved for Allyson, smiling his patented small smile when he heard her voice.

"Hey," she answered cheerily. "You still at work?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Doesn't look like it's gonna be real late tonight, though, so I should be at your place before you go to bed."

"Good," she told him softly. "I don't like trying to sleep alone—I miss you too much when you're not here."

His smile grew the tiniest bit and his brown eyes shone. "I know, I miss being there." He allowed his mind to settle on the image of Allyson lying in his arms for a moment before bringing himself back. "Oh, and I, uh, asked H about Thanksgiving."

"Is he coming?"

Walking down the hallway at that moment was Eric, and, spotting Tim, he moved toward the open door to let his friend know about their next assignment. He halted, though, just inside the door when he realized Tim was on the phone.

Tim shook his head even though Allyson couldn't see him and answered her question. "No. He's got plans with his brother's family. But Eric said he'd come by when he got a chance."

"So there'll be four of us," she calculated.

"And you can start planning dinner," he teased, "and stop planning our anniversary, or whatever you're working on."

Eric didn't hear Allyson's reply, but he was startled by Tim's statement. _I know he's just joking with her, but he's talking about their anniversary? That means he's thought about them _having _an anniversary._ He cleared his throat, realizing his friend didn't know he was there, and gestured that he had something to share. Turning away to try and give Tim some privacy for his good-bye, Eric smiled. _There goes my clubbing partner!_


	8. Ally at the Lab

A/N: See? Only a week between updates this time :-P Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 8: Ally at the Lab**

* * *

"Hey." Tim flipped his cell phone open as he headed for the Evidence Locker, smiling at the Caller ID display.

"Hey," Allyson grinned on the other end of the line. "We still on for lunch?"

He lifted his wrist into view, checking his watch. "Yeah. You on your way?"

"Mmhmm," she replied. "Sold the last plate of muffins ten minutes ago."

"Wow, that was fast," he commented. "An entire bake sale in an hour and a half."

Allyson chuckled. "The kids did a great job advertising."

"You said they put a lot of work into it," he replied. Reaching the Evidence Locker, he paused outside the caged walls. "Listen, I gotta finish something up here before we go."

"Okay," she responded. "Should I wait for you in the lobby or the car when I get there?"

"I know we said we were keeping a low profile, Ally, but we're not hiding, either," he told her. "You can come in."

She was smiling when she answered. "Okay," she repeated. "I'll see you in a few minutes then." Fifteen minutes later, Allyson found herself standing in the lobby of the Crime Lab, leaning against the front desk as she waited for Tim to appear. Before he did, though, she heard another man call her name.

"Miss Brooks?"

Shifting her gaze to the person moving toward her, she took in the red hair, the fair skin, and the badge and ID card on his belt.

"Miss Brooks, I'm Horatio Caine."

She nodded in recognition. "It's nice to finally meet you," she smiled, offering her hand. "Tim's told me a lot about you."

He took it, squeezing it affectionately before releasing it. "He's mentioned you a few times, too," he replied with a small smile. "You're waiting for him now?"

"Yes," she answered. "We missed dinner together last night, so we made plans for lunch today."

"That's nice," he returned. "That's nice that the two of you spend your time together."

Her eyes sparkled when she spoke. "It is, yeah."

"And thank you for the dinner invitation, by the way," he continued.

"Thanksgiving," she smiled in response. "Well, people should be with friends and family for the holidays. And I understand that's what you'll be doing."

His smile softened at the thought of spending the evening with his sister-in-law and nephew. "Uh, yeah. Yes, I will."

"Good." She emphasized her word with a nod. "Maybe another time, though."

Studying her face, Horatio could see that she was doing more than just offering a dinner invitation. Looking into her blue eyes he knew that she was asking for his approval. She wanted the supervisor's assurance that Tim would suffer no ill effects at work because of her. _She has the same look that he had when I asked him about her—they're going to be together, but they want to do it the right way. _His smile widened a bit, showing off a few of his white teeth. "I'd like that." Before Allyson could respond, though, she caught sight of Tim over Horatio's shoulder and the relief was replaced by unmistakable adoration. _How could I stand in the way of that?_

"Hey Ally," Tim called, his brown eyes bright. "I see you've met H."

"Yeah," she said lightly. "I was just saying that we should have the Lieutenant over for dinner sometime."

Tim's gaze met Allyson's and his lips curved into a small smile. "Yeah, we'll have to do that."

"Well don't let me hold you up any longer," Horatio added, taking a step backward.

"It was nice to meet you," Allyson told him, turning with Tim and heading for the elevator.

He smiled again, noticing the way Tim's hand grazed the small of Allyson's back. "You too."

* * *

From the back of the corridor beside the reception desk, Calleigh watched Tim and Allyson wait for the elevator, watched them step through the doors when it arrived. His hand slipped from her back to her hip as they turned, and she leaned closer as though to whisper something to him, a happy smile on her face. When the doors slid shut Calleigh turned away, anger rising up as she marched into the Trace Lab.

_Maybe work will take my mind off her._

Pausing just inside the door, she reached for her lab coat off the rack, wriggling into it as she moved across the room. Halting in front of the counter, she held out her arms in front of her, realizing that the sleeves flowed well past her fingertips.

"This isn't mine," she muttered aloud.

As she stood there, she also noticed the faint scent of perfume emanating from the fabric, something neither she nor most of the other CSIs and lab techs ever wore on the job because it interfered with the senses. Glancing down at the name stitched on the front, she frowned.

_It's Tim's. And the perfume must be Allyson's. I bet he was with her this morning before he came to work._

Going quickly back to the rack, she stripped off the lab coat and hung it up, grabbing hers off its hook and hurrying back to her place at the counter.

_Even at the lab! It's bad enough that Tim's with her on his own time, but now she's in the lab! Does he have any idea what he's doing?_

She shook her head with a note of sadness invading her anger.

_No, I'm sure he doesn't and that's the problem. He got caught up in the Florence Nightingale aspect of her case, comforting her, holding her hand, telling her everything was going to be okay. Then he felt compelled to make sure everything really _was _okay, and got all hung up on this girl. I saw the way he was looking at her! She could tell him to do anything and I think he just might do it, whether he should or not._

Her hands moved automatically as she sorted through the files of completed test results as her mind continued to spin.

_I'm sure he really does care about her—Tim's not the kind of guy to fake that sort of thing—but he didn't even think to tell me about her. Eric knew, because he invited her to his housewarming party. And Alexx knew, she told me so when I asked her about it later. But Tim never even bothered to tell me that he was spending time with this woman, and here we're supposed to be good friends!_

Finding the file she was looking for, she replaced the others on the counter and scanned the results sheets with unseeing eyes.

_And now he's upset with me so he won't listen to reason. I was a little out of line at the party, I suppose, and I probably should apologize. But he still won't listen to me if I try and tell him to be careful, which is really what I want. I just want him to be careful with her. I don't want to see any harm come to the lab, to his cases, or to him and I wish I could make him understand that._

* * *

Tim's walk was light, his body relaxed when he returned from lunch and strolled into the ballistics lab. "So what did I miss?" he asked.

Calleigh lifted her eyes from the microscope she was peering into and handed him the file she had picked up from Trace earlier. "This is what was on the vic's neck."

"Baby oil," he commented. "There's a thousand ways that could have gotten there."

As he spoke, she noticed something on his shoulder. Stepping closer, she realized it was a long brown hair. "And a thousand ways this could have gotten here," she responded, plucking it off of him and holding it up for him to see. "Allyson's?"

"Well it isn't mine," he answered, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

She pressed her lips together and deposited the hair in the garbage. "Must have been an interesting lunch." When he started to reply, she went back to the scope and changed the subject, describing the bullets she was comparing in a clear signal that this conversation was business only.

At the end of the day she parked herself on the bench in the locker room, head in hands, wondering if every day was going to be this tough now.

"Hey Calleigh, you okay?"

She looked up, reflexively smoothing back her hair, and smiled slightly at Eric as he took a seat beside her. "Yeah. I'm just tired."

He tilted his head to one side and flashed her a sympathetic smile. "And?"

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"What else is bothering you?" he tried again. "Come on, Cal, I can tell there's something else going on. What is it?"

She blew out a breath. "Allyson Brooks," she confessed flatly.

"You're still smoldering over her, huh?" he chuckled.

"You make it sound like I'm jealous," she responded, raising an eyebrow. "And you know that's not the problem, right?"

"So what _is_ the problem?"

It was a simple question, but she didn't have a simple answer. She sighed and bowed her head, resting her elbows on her thighs. "I'm afraid something's going to happen," was the best she could do.

"To Speed?" he asked, surprised.

"To him, to her case, to his other cases, to the lab…" She dropped her head back into her hands. "I don't know. I'm just afraid he's gotten caught up in this knight-in-shining-armor thing."

Eric reached for her, running his fingers along her forearm. "Have you talked to him?"

Calleigh shook her head without looking up. "Not after the way I acted at your party. I scolded him like a small child in front of all those people. Now we only talk about work to keep from yelling at each other."

"Look," he said softly, lifting her chin with his index finger, "if it's any consolation, I don't think this is a knight-in-shining-armor situation."

She locked onto his brown eyes, reading them as he spoke, judging his words against what she saw. "You don't?"

"No," he assured her. "I don't know how it happened, but Speed really cares about Allyson…I mean _really_ cares. I overhead him the other day joking about her planning their anniversary." Her expression went blank when she didn't get his point, so he continued, "That means he's thinking about _having_ an anniversary, Cal. He's thinking long term with her."

A look of panic crossed her face for the briefest of instants before she regained control and suppressed it. "But is that a good thing? I mean, what do we know about this woman?"

"_I _know that she's intelligent, she's funny, she's tough and sweet and fun," he told her. "And you would know that, too, if you got to know her."

"Gee, Eric, you sound like you've got a crush on her," she deadpanned.

He chuckled. "I'm just saying, you're a good CSI—you should weigh all the evidence before you draw your conclusions." He patted her arm, allowing his hand to run over her shoulder as he stood, leaving her to contemplate on her own.

_I have evidence_, she thought. _I have the change in Tim's behavior, and I have the possible consequences of personal relationships with victims. Isn't that all I need? Or is there more?_


	9. Thanksgiving

A/N: And we're back to the cuteness in this chapter, although I loved the reactions to Calleigh in the last one! You guys are so good at telling me what you think, and that is the best thing you can do for a writer :-) Keep it up, and enjoy this!

* * *

**Chapter 9: Thanksgiving**

* * *

The alarm clock screeched from the nightstand, and Allyson rolled over to glare groggily at it. The numbers glowed accusingly back at her, prompting her to reach up and mash the off button, hopping that the noise hadn't awakened Tim.

But movement from his side of the bed told her otherwise.

"What time is it?" he mumbled sleepily, reaching for her and pulling her close against him.

"Six-thirty," she returned quietly, wrapping an arm around him and threading her fingers through his hair.

"But it's Thanksgiving," he told her, his eyes still closed even as his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "You don't have to work today…and neither do I."

"No, but I have to put the turkey in the oven," she reminded him. Leaving a soft kiss on his lips, she began to pull away. "Go back to sleep."

He tightened his arm around her, though, and finally opened his dark eyes, training them on her. "We don't need turkey," he replied. "We've got sweet potatoes, and rolls, and cranberry sauce, and mashed potatoes, and gravy, and stuffing…"

"We need the turkey to make the gravy and the stuffing," she smiled, slowly inching away.

"Then forget the gravy and stuffing," he decided, maintaining his grip on her waist. "You made four pies, too—that's plenty of food. Just stay here in bed with me."

She was grinning now. "I'll be right back," she promised leaning close, her lips grazing his jaw.

On her second attempt to slip out of bed he didn't stop her, but trailed his hand over her body until she was out of reach, burying his face in a pillow when she was gone, his arm stretched out across her now-empty side of the bed. True to her word, Allyson returned a few minutes later and crawled beneath the covers, cuddling up against Tim with a satisfied smile on her face.

"Turkey's in the oven?" he asked, kissing her hair.

She nodded in response, yawning and placing her own kiss on his shoulder. "Yep."

"And you don't need to get up for anything else?"

This time she shook her head. "Nope."

He sighed happily, closing his eyes again. "Good."

His fingers combed through her long hair, tracing gentle lines up and down her back, and Allyson felt her eyes closing, too. A warm sensation of safety and affection enveloped her as she lay in Tim's arms, listening to the reassuring sound of his steady breathing. She could tell by the way he held her that he felt the same way, his nose nuzzled against her forehead, his hand coming to rest protectively on the small of her back. She kissed him again, her lips brushing against the fair skin of his neck as she drifted off into a contented sleep.

An hour later she was awakened again, this time by the ringing of Tim's cell phone. She felt him release her and reach for the cell on the nightstand, speaking in a low voice for a quick minute.

"Who was that?" she asked when he flipped the phone shut.

He frowned resignedly, rolling back over to face her. "Horatio."

"Uh-oh."

He propped himself up on one elbow, brushing wayward strands of hair from her eyes with his free hand. "Yeah," he sighed. "They're short handed, and he needs me to come in."

"All day?"

"I hope not." He cupped her cheek, running a thumb over the smooth skin of her face as he leaned down and kissed her, his brown eyes sparkling when her arms encircled his neck in response. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Okay," she responded, reaching up for another kiss, morning breath and all. "Go catch some bad guys."

* * *

"So how does it feel to be a married woman?" Amanda giggled as she peeled potatoes at the kitchen sink.

Allyson raised a questioning eyebrow at her friend. "What?"

"Okay, maybe not married," Amanda corrected with a grin. "But definitely spoken for."

Allyson smiled gently. "I suppose."

Amanda stopped peeling and turned toward Allyson, studying her a moment as her grin widened. "You suppose? Half his stuff is here, and I'd be willing to bet half your stuff is at his place."

"Not half," Allyson corrected, her eyes sparkling. "Just a few things."

Amanda laughed aloud, going back to her potatoes. "Oh, well, that's completely different," she smirked. "Come on, Al, spill. You've been walking around on a cloud for the past few weeks, but you haven't told me anything."

"There just really isn't much to tell." Allyson picked up a knife and pulled the cutting board in front of her, reaching for one of the potatoes Amanda had finished peeling. "We're, uh…we're taking it one day at a time. And yes I know how cliché that sounds," she added before Amanda could jump in. "But that's what we're doing. Yeah, he keeps a toothbrush and a razor here, some clothes. And yeah, I have a few things at his place. But it's not like we're living together."

"You don't spend practically every night together?" Amanda winked.

The soft smile returned to Allyson's lips. "You know we do."

Amanda nudged her friend playfully. "So…how is he?"

"How is he?"

Amanda grinned. "You know…in bed?"

Allyson shook her head, half amused, half mortified. "Manda! I figured you'd wait at least a month before asking me that."

"Well I'm asking now," she replied, waggling her eyebrows.

Allyson continued to slice potatoes, shaking her head again at the woman beside her. "I can't tell you."

Amanda's shoulders slumped. "You used to talk to me, Al. Now it's like pulling teeth to get you to fill me in. I know you and Tim are close, but don't forget about me, okay?"

Allyson put down the knife and potato, drying her hands on a kitchen towel before laying them on Amanda's shoulders. _That's what this is really about._ "Never," she said firmly, locking on to Amanda's hazel eyes. "You and I have been friends since the fourth grade, and nothing's going to change that—not even Tim, no matter how close I am to him."

Amanda turned and slid her arms around her best friend, hugging her tightly. "Promise?"

"Promise," Allyson replied, squeezing her affectionately. "But I still can't tell you what he's like in bed."

"What? Why?" Amanda pulled back, searching Allyson's eyes for answers.

Allyson's lips curved into a shy smile. "Because I don't know."

Amanda's eyes widened. "You two haven't…"

"We're taking it one day at a time, remember?"

That earned her a laugh. "So when you sleep together, you actually _sleep_."

"Imagine that," Allyson chuckled.

A male voice interrupted, calling out from the living room. "Ally?" A moment later, Tim appeared in the kitchen, streaked with dirt and grime. "Oh, hey Amanda."

The two women separated, each smothering a giggle. "Hey Tim," Amanda replied for the both of them. "How was work?"

He sighed heavily in response. "I spent the morning in a dumpster."

"And you're standing here in my nice clean kitchen?" Allyson teased.

"I'm on my way to the shower," he told her with a small smile. "I just wanted to let you know I was home." He leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the cheek, longing to hold her but somehow managing to restrain himself. _When I'm clean, and we're alone._

"Okay," Allyson replied, her own smile softening. "There's extra soap under the sink if you need it."

"I probably will," he quipped, disappearing around the corner.

When he was gone Amanda looked at Allyson, a sly grin spreading over her face. "So cute."

"Him? Absolutely," Allyson agreed.

"Him, you, together," Amanda clarified. "You guys are adorable. Did you see the way he looked at you?" She went back to the sink, retrieving the peeler and the potato she was working on, her eyes twinkling. "You two are gonna have gorgeous children…when you stop _sleeping_."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want another piece of pie?" Allyson asked, clearing dishes from the coffee table in the living room.

Eric half-laughed, half-groaned from his place on the couch. "I can't eat another bite," he proclaimed. "But I wish I could. You are an amazing cook."

"And so is your mother," she returned. "Thank her for sending over the pastelitos. They were wonderful."

"Best in Miami," Tim agreed from the recliner, watching Allyson take the dishes into the kitchen.

"And probably Cuba, too," Amanda added from the other side of the couch.

Eric smirked at her. "What do you know about Cuba?"

"Apparently more than the Dolphins know about football," she joked, gesturing to the television. "The Cowboys are kicking their asses."

"Yeah, not everyone can be as good as the Buffalo Bills," he returned sarcastically.

"At least they've been to a Super Bowl in the last fifteen years," she shot back with a laugh. "You guys are still hanging on to your perfect season—"

"—that no one else has ever had—"

"—that happened in 1972," she finished.

Allyson returned to the room, pausing by Tim's chair and settling herself on the arm. "They're arguing again?"

His hand slid across her lower back, finding a home on her hip. "Yep."

She smiled, slipping an arm around his shoulders. "But they're having a good time."

"Yeah," he agreed. "You are, too."

"Yeah," she echoed contentedly. "This is nice—you'n me, our two best friends."

His eyes found hers and he smiled a small smile. "You gettin' sentimental on me?"

"A little," she admitted, running her thumb absently over the material of his shirt. "It usually happens around the holidays, anyway, but this year…" _This year I'm lucky to be alive._

He read her unspoken thought, squeezing her gently in reassurance. "I know." _And tonight I'll hold you just a little tighter while we sleep._

"Touchdown!"

The pair looked up, catching instantly the glee written all over Amanda's face and the complete dismay on Eric's.

"Cowboys?" Tim asked, already knowing the answer.

Eric nodded but Amanda answered first, smiling brightly. "Yep."

"You're not even from Dallas," Eric reminded her. "And I bet you're not even a Cowboys fan, are you?"

Amanda shook her head cheerfully. "Nope. But I'm a very good antagonist."

"That's true," Allyson chuckled. "Manda made quite the annoying sister when we were growing up. There were many times I completely forgot I was an only child."

"Me too," Amanda grinned back. Then her voice softened. "And I'm glad you're still around to annoy me."

Eric gave a quick upward nod, shifting his eyes from the television over to Allyson's perch. "I'll second that."

The four of them were silent for a moment, reflecting on the changes the last several months had brought. Just as the air was beginning to become too heavy, though, Tim lightened the mood.

"Dallas is kicking off the ball."

Amanda and Eric returned their attention to the television and resumed their trash talking, while Allyson's fingers slid across the warm skin of Tim's neck. "Happy Thanksgiving," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear as she leaned in close.

He adjusted his arm around her, squeezing her hip again, his small smile returning. "Happy Thanksgiving."


	10. Christmas Preperations

A/N: Betcha thought I forgot about this, didn't you? Well, I'm back (again) and writing, offering a new chapter in exchange for your forgiveness for my long absence...with plenty more still to come!

* * *

**Chapter 10: Christmas Preperations**

* * *

Allyson sat at her desk, leaning back in her chair after the last bell and savoring the peace and quiet of her empty classroom. Her normally well-behaved students had been irritable and ornery, two so insubordinate she had sent them out earlier in the day.

"And the staff meeting starts in ten minutes," she muttered aloud, glancing at the clock. "But," she continued, brightening up, "at least one good thing happened today." Her eyes came to rest on the bouquet of flowers perched on the edge of her desk, delivered in the middle of second period with a business card from the Miami-Dade Crime Lab tucked in between two of the stalks.

"Those from Speed?" a voice asked from across the room.

Looking up, she found Eric standing in the doorway grinning. "Of course they are," she smiled back, straightening up in her chair and rising to her feet.

He chuckled as he moved into the room. "Of course. Because who else would send flowers to a beautiful woman?"

"So what brings you by?" she asked, changing the subject as her cheeks turned a faint pink.

He halted in front of her, suddenly a little concerned. "It's okay that I'm here, right? I'm not going to get you in trouble?"

"No," she shook her head. "The kids are gone and I have a couple of minutes before the staff meeting. What's up?"

"Well, I was hoping you could help me out," he began, his brown eyes hopeful. "I'm determined not to be one of those guys wandering around on Christmas Eve still shopping without a clue."

"Getting started early this year," she nodded approvingly, leaning against the front of her desk. "That's commendable."

"Well, with three sisters…"

She smiled knowingly, following his train of thought. "You want a woman's help."

"'Desperately need' is more like it," he confessed. "Calleigh usually goes with me, but a couple of her cases are going to trial starting next week so she's going to be too busy this year. If you've got some time, I was thinking maybe you'd take pity on me."

That made her laugh. "Pity is not what you need, Eric Delko. But I would be happy to lend you my services. When were you thinking?"

He pulled out the piece of paper he'd jotted down a few dates on and they consulted her calendar, picking a day he wasn't scheduled to work when she would be free of any extracurricular duties as well.

He was smiling again when he took a pen from the cup on her desk and made a note for himself. "This is great," he told her, relieved. "I actually have a chance this year after all."

"Oh, you'll have more than just a chance," she grinned, patting his arm. "This Christmas is going to a good one for you sisters. And maybe for some special girl?"

"Maybe," was all he replied, a slightly embarrassed expression on his face. "But I'm admitting to nothing without a lawyer present."

"You know I'm going to see your good friend Lisa Brady at the staff meeting in a few minutes, right?" she teased.

His embarrassed expression grew and he refused to look her in the eye. "Yeah, tell her I said hi," he mumbled. Then, his darting to the clock, "Well, I should get going—we both have work to do."

"Room 329."

"What?"

"Lisa's in room 329," Allyson informed him with a twinkle in her eyes. "Just in case you were wondering."

"Yeah, okay." He waved a hand at her dismissively, heading for the door. "See ya later."

Allyson suppressed another laugh, but didn't quite hide the smile that went with it. "Bye."

* * *

That evening she stood in the middle of her living room surrounded by boxes and strings of lights, trying to form a picture in her mind of what her new house would look like all dolled up for Christmas. She rummaged through the boxes looking for decorations, finding things she'd forgotten she had, cleaning up the occasional broken piece. She was in the middle of untangling one of the strings of lights when a key turned in the lock and Tim swung the front door open. He didn't speak, but picked his way through the room toward her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her warmly.

After the initial moment of surprise, Allyson smiled against his mouth and draped her arms around his neck, allowing him to deepen the kiss. "Whoa," she murmured breathlessly when they broke apart. "What was that for?"

He chuckled in response, looking down into her bright blue eyes and kissing her again briefly. "A little birdy told me you had a rough day." She raised a questioning eyebrow at him, prompting him to explain further. "Delko said he stopped by school to see you."

"I didn't say anything to him about my bad day, though," she answered, her fingers combing absently through his hair.

"We're CSIs," he reminded her. "We read people for a living."

"Really? I thought you read _evidence_," she smirked playfully.

He brushed a loose lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle and soothing. "People are evidence, too."

Her eyes closed as his fingers traveled over her cheek and down her neck, looking back up at him again only when she could no longer feel them on her skin. "Well Eric was right, I did have a bad day…and it got worse after he left."

"What happened?"

She pressed her lips together. "My kids were idiots today," she said flatly. "I even had to throw two of them out, and I don't usually have to do that. I've been really lucky with their behavior this year, but today they were just…squirrelly. Then the staff meeting ran long and I almost missed my appointment with the ultrasound tech."

"Ultrasound?"

She nodded. "Remember I told you about my last checkup with the doctor coming up?" Tim nodded and she continued, "He sent me for an ultrasound first so he can see how things look inside my abdomen since the attack. I managed to get the last appointment for the day, but because of that stupid staff meeting I was running late."

He began rubbing comforting circles in the small of her back with his thumb. "Did you make it?"

"Barely, no thanks to the cop that pulled me over."

"You got pulled over?" he asked, his voice tinged with just a hint of anger. "For what?"

She brushed a hand over his cheek. "Speeding. And I deserved it. I was going twenty miles an hour over the speed limit."

"Who gave you the ticket? Do you have it?" His voice was steady but he was clearly irritated.

She nodded. "It's over there on the kitchen table," she told him, gesturing with one hand. He released her and stalked over to the table, grabbing the ticket and reading intently, even as she continued to talk. "Don't go getting all bent out of shape," she cautioned gently. "He was nice about it—very professional. He even wrote it for way less when he found out I was a teacher…said it was a courtesy from one county employee to another."

"But not enough of a courtesy to actually let you go," he returned, hunting for the name of the issuing officer. "R. Wolfe," he growled, glancing back at her when he felt her fingers grasp his arm. "I'm gonna talk to this Wolfe."

"No you're not," she countered, resting her chin on his shoulder. "He was just doing his job. I was going _twenty_ over, Tim. He only wrote the ticket for five."

"Doesn't he know who you are?" he spat.

Amusement sparkled in her eyes, but she managed to hide it. Or so she thought. "Who should I have told him I am?"

He noticed her barely concealed smile, the too-curious look on her face. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he said, turning around to face her fully.

"That you're a bit protective of me? Of course I like that," she answered, slipping her arms around his waist. "Is there something else going on here that I don't know about?"

Her proximity to him broke through most of the annoyance, her mock innocence scattering the rest. "You should have told him you're my girlfriend," he said softly, resting his hands on her shoulders and sliding them down her back. "Then at least someone would have called me."

"Is that what I am?" she asked, her eyes sparkling up at him. "You're girlfriend?"

"No," he told her, "but 'soul mate' just sounds so cheesy when you say it out loud." When she opened her mouth to speak and no words came out, and he smiled his patented small smile. "You didn't know? I thought I made my feelings for you pretty clear."

"You did," she managed, eyes still wide with surprise. "I just didn't expect you to say it." She shook her head a little as if to clear it and matched his smile. "You're generally more of a 'show' guy than a 'tell' guy."

"But 'tell' is okay, too, right?"

She leaned up, finding his lips with hers in a soft kiss. "Tell is definitely okay."

"Good," he murmured, kissing her again and dropping the now-forgotten ticket back onto the kitchen table. "Because I plan to show _and_ tell when I take you out next week."

The playful quality returned to her voice when she spoke again. "You're taking me out?"

He nodded. "On my day off. I think it's about time we went out on a real date."

"Where are we going?"

He shook his head, his brown eyes glinting. "All you need to know is to wear that black dress in the back of your closet."

She laughed, running a hand over his chest. "The one with the little straps? I might have known."

"So how did the ultrasound go?" he asked, changing the subject and leading her over to the couch.

She shrugged, dropping down beside him, cuddling against him when his arm found its way around her. "It was fine, except for the part where I had to drink a gallon of water and not use the bathroom until after it was over."

"And everything's okay?"

"That I won't know until I see the doctor, and they couldn't get me in until after the holidays," she told him. "The nurse assured me when I made the appointment that they would look at the ultrasound when it came in, and that if there was anything on it that couldn't wait, they'd call."

He nodded, saying a silent prayer that the test came up clean as he kissed her forehead. "Okay, good."

"Until then, I want to get these decorations up," she grinned cheerfully, training her eyes on the living room floor. "Lights on the roofline, some in the palm tree out front, maybe some in the trees in the backyard, too, if there's enough. Then I can get the tree up and start looking for tickets to Buffalo."

He was nodding along with her plans until her last statement. "Buffalo?"

"Well, yeah," she returned gently. "I haven't seen my parents since July, and I'd kind of like to be with them at Christmas." She paused, studying his face, his eyes. "I thought you might come, too, if we could work it out with your work schedule and plans with your family."

He frowned, sounding annoyed when he answered. "Were you going to tell me?"

"About Buffalo? Of course," she assured him, playing with his sleeve to mask her confusion. _Why is he upset about this?_ "It's sort of been in the back of my mind for a few weeks now, but I haven't _really_ thought about Christmas 'til this week, now that Thanksgiving's over."

"Yeah, that makes sense," he decided, letting loose a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, I just…had a bad day, too."

"You want to talk about it?"

He met her gaze, a small smile forming on his lips at the realization that she was there in his arms, safe and happy. "No. I'd rather hang Christmas lights."

"It's good therapy," she agreed, knowing that he'd talk to her later if he needed to. "Especially using the staple gun on the roof."

He chuckled at her enthusiasm, standing with her and clasping her hand as he followed her out to the garage to fetch the ladder and staple gun. Two feet from the tools, she stopped abruptly and kissed him, slowly, tenderly.

"What was that for?" he mumbled against her lips, kissing her again when she tried to pull away.

"Because you sent me flowers today for no particular reason," she smiled softly, squeezing his hand.

He managed one more kiss before she turned and hefted the ladder. "Then I'm definitely going to send you flowers more often."


	11. Date Night

A/N: I know it's been a while since I've updated this one, and I know I've promised to do better, but this time I really mean it! And I'm going to make it all up to you, too--this is turning into a big giant series (6, maybe 7 parts), which is part of the reason I've been so slow in updating this time. I've been getting ideas for things that happen after this story, and they won't leave me along until I write them down!

At any rate, I hope this one was worth the wait. Behold, Tim and Ally's first real date. The song is "Goodnight, My Love" by Harry Connick, Jr., and is the slowest song I've ever heard. If the lyrics maybe don't match up with the immediate situation, read them again and think of what Tim and Allyson have been through together, and you'll see why I picked it :D

* * *

**Chapter 11: Date Night**

* * *

Tim awoke in Allyson's bed, groggy and alone, instinctively reaching for her even though he knew she wasn't there. He remembered rising in the pre-dawn morning when her alarm went off, stumbling into the kitchen to pack her lunch as she got herself ready for work. Grabbing her pillow and pulling it to him, he allowed his mind to replay the good-bye kiss he'd left her with at the door, soft and tender, her arms snaking around his neck, her body warm against his.

_Every morning should include a kiss like that._

He grinned into the pillow, granting himself a few more minutes to revel in what had been the best moment of his day thus far before forcing himself to get up. Tonight was his date with Allyson, and his carefully crafted plans would all go to waste if he lay in bed all day.

"In _her_ bed," he mumbled to himself, his grin still lingering in the form of a small smile.

He didn't bother showering yet, but threw on some clothes and gathered some for Allyson, fumbling with her blouses and slacks in an attempt to recreate any one of the outfits he had seen her wearing to work. He made the bed and fetched the iron from the laundry room, knowing he would need it later and not at all sure where his was. Standing in the living room, he glanced around the house and wondered if there was anything else he needed to do.

"Not here," he decided, pulling on his boots and stuffing his wallet in his back pocket. He grabbed the spare set of keys to Allyson's car, thankful he had talked her into catching a ride with a coworker that morning as he hefted a bag containing her change of clothes and iron. _It would be a lot harder to do this with just the bike._

He made a quick call confirming the dinner reservation he'd made after checking Allyson's extracurricular activities calendar, and sped off to the flower shop that Alexx had recommended. The little old man working behind the counter when he arrived was the same one that had helped him the week before.

"Back for more, are you?" the elderly florist asked with a sly grin. "That bouquet worked, didn't it?"

"It did," Tim replied. "We're going out tonight."

"And you need some first date flowers," the man nodded knowingly. "Well, there's your roses," he continued, coming around the counter and gesturing to the multi-colored bank of roses on one side of the store, "but everybody gets roses." He pointed to several more sections as he talked about the contents of each. "There's your carnations and daisies, but those are things kids give to each other. The irises are nice if you like purple, but you _really_ have to like purple…they're so dark. We have a few different kinds of lilies, if your lady likes that sort of thing…"

"What about tulips?" Tim asked. "She grows this kind called 'flaming reds'."

The old man shook his head. "Tulips are out of season," he explained. "Really hard to get down here this time of year, and the ones you do get are overpriced and only in the usual colors. No flaming reds." His expression changed, softening into one of nostalgic love. "You want my advice?"

"It was good last time."

The florist grinned. "Hibiscus." He shuffled over to a refrigerator containing trumpet-shaped flowers with delicate petals in varying pastel shades. "I gave 'em to my wife on our first date."

Tim studied the large flowers, eyeing the conspicuous colors and wondering how his less flamboyant girlfriend would react when presented with a bunch. Then he spotted the peach ones, bright and sunny, but not quite as flashy as their orange and pink cousins. "What about those?"

"My daughter grew those herself." The little old man smiled proudly. "You want a dozen?"

* * *

At six o'clock sharp, Allyson's doorbell rang. She hurried to the front door, puzzled at the interruption, hoping it wasn't anything that would take up too much time. _Tim will be here any minute and I'm not quite ready. _A glance through the peephole told her a different story, and she swung open the door open with a laugh. "Tim!"

"Right on time," he returned with a smile, his eyes traveling the length of her body.

She stood aside and allowed him to enter the house, noting the neatly pressed suit he wore—sans tie—and catching a whiff of his aftershave when he passed her. When he faced her again she blinked several times, trying to force her brain to focus on something other than his looks. "H-how come you rang the bell?" she managed, tearing her eyes away briefly to close the door. "You usually just use your key."

"This is a date," he explained. "A gentleman doesn't just barge into a lady's home during a date. No matter how beautiful she looks in her little black dress." He leaned in for a kiss, whispering in her ear, "And you are beyond beautiful."

She pulled away before his lips made contact, a teasing sparkle in her eyes. "And a lady doesn't kiss her gentleman caller _before_ the date," she told him, gently pushing against his chest with her palms.

"Not even if he brings her flowers?" he countered, holding out the bouquet of hibiscus.

She took them, smiling an appreciative smile. "My goodness, Tim…these are even prettier than the last bunch—thank you." She reached up and kissed him softly on the cheek, lingering there for just a moment, grinning when she felt his arms encircle her. "You know I have to finish getting ready, right?" she reminded him, thumbing his lapel lightly as she drew back. "Or we're never going to get out of here."

His mind flashed briefly to what an evening in might entail and he knew he was sporting a goofy smile as a result. "That could work," he mumbled, his lips grazing her ear.

"And it might later on," she answered with a chuckle, closing her eyes as he kissed her temple, her jaw. "But my rumbling stomach is going to kill the mood."

That earned her a laugh. "Okay, okay," he responded, releasing her grudgingly. "Can I do anything?"

She shook her head. "Just stay here and keep looking…the way you do," she told him, her own goofy smile forming on her lips.

"I can do that," he replied, one eyebrow arched teasingly as he watched her walk away sniffing her flowers. When she reappeared, he offered her his arm and escorted her to the car, opening the door and helping her inside before circling around to the driver's side.

"So what have you got planned for the evening?" Allyson asked, taking Tim's hand in hers.

"Well, we'll start with dinner…so your empty stomach doesn't kill the mood," he winked. "Then I thought we'd go dancing, if it's not too late."

She turned in her seat to look at him. "Dancing? Really?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "You like to dance."

"But you don't," she smiled. "That's how I ended up dancing with Diver Dave at Eric's party, remember?"

"Remember watching you in some other guy's arms half the evening?" he asked, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice. "Nah. Must've slipped my mind."

That made her laugh. "Tim Speedle, you're not jealous are you?"

He frowned at the car in front of them, trying to find an answer to her question. "We weren't even together then," he reminded her.

"That doesn't mean you can't be jealous," she informed him.

He was quiet again for a long moment. "All I know is that I didn't like it, okay?" he finally confessed, an uncomfortable expression etched onto his face.

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "It doesn't matter anyway," she decided, "because I won't _be_ in anyone else's arms. Just yours.

A vision of the two of them together, arms wound around each other, flashed through his mind and he relaxed. "Now that I like."

* * *

Dinner turned out to be better than Tim had hoped it would be. The upscale restaurant he had picked had a reputation for good food but pretentious service, and the reviews had only been right on the first count. Their meals were excellent, and the waiter was polite and attentive—especially after catching a glimpse of the badge clipped to Tim's belt.

The pair took their time going back to the car afterwards, strolling around outside in the warm Miami air hand in hand before heading to the parking lot. Once they pulled into traffic, though, Allyson noticed that they were taking a very familiar route, and it didn't lead to any club she knew.

"I thought we were going dancing," she thought aloud, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"We are," he stated with a completely straight face.

She watched as he made a left turn, away from the hustle and bustle of the commercial areas. "But all the clubs are back that way…"

He smiled mysteriously at her, his dark eyes twinkling. "Who said we were going to a club?"

"If we're not going dancing at a club, then were on earth are we going?" she laughed.

"You'll just have to wait and see," he told her.

It wasn't long, though, before she had her answer. They turned into an apartment complex both had been to many times before, parking the car its usual space. "Your place?"

He nodded, walking around the car to open her door and help her out. "Mmhmm." Sliding his arm around her waist, he led her up the stairs of his building and into his apartment, the site of Phase II of his planning that afternoon. The place was spotless, scrubbed floor to ceiling by Tim's own hands, with the couch pushed back against the far wall and the coffee table removed from its usual place in the center of living room.

She giggled, turning to him and running a hand over his chest. "You made a dance floor here!"

His arm resumed its position around her waist, joined by its twin as his mouth curved into a pleased smile. "You like it?"

"It's the best of both worlds," she replied. "Dancing _and_ privacy."

"And," he continued, releasing her for a moment and striding across the room, "good music." He knelt down in front of the displaced coffee table, picking up Allyson's iPod and scrolling through the menus until he found what he was looking for.

"I wondered where that went," she chuckled, her blue eyes trained on him. "Did you change all my playlists again?"

He shook his head, placing the device in its speaker dock and rising. "Nope. But I did make you a new one." Soft, slow strains of a piano floated through the room as Tim moved to dim the lights, then took Allyson in his arms and drew her close against him.

_Goodnight, my love  
Pleasant dreams and sleep tight, my love  
May tomorrow be sunny and bright  
And bring you closer to me_

"I love this song," she breathed, winding her arms around his neck as a soulful saxophone joined the piano.

"I know," he responded softly, smiling his patented small smile.

_Before you go  
Please remember I need you so  
And this love I have for you  
Will never grow cold_

He took her hand in his and cradled it against his chest, guiding her toward the center of the open space, moving in rhythm with the gentle music.

_If you should awake in the still of the night  
Please have no fear  
Just close your eyes  
Then you'll realize  
That my love will watch over you, dear, always_

"I get it now," he whispered, resting his cheek against hers.

She pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. "Get what?"

"The dancing thing," he smiled. "I never understood why people would want to hold each other in the middle of a big empty floor and move around in circles." She laughed lightly and he leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers as he spoke. "But I get it now. It's the holding each other part that's important."

_Goodnight, my love  
Pleasant dreams and sleep tight, my love  
May tomorrow be sunny and bright  
And bring you closer to me_

Her thumb caressed his smooth face, the scent of his aftershave coupling with his touch to make her heart flutter. "I knew you'd figure it out," she murmured in return.

"Am I allowed to kiss you now?" he asked quietly with mock seriousness. "It isn't the beginning of the date anymore…"

Her eyes were closing before she finished her response. "I think you better."

His lips met hers tenderly, his fingers tightening around hers against his lapel, his arm slipping further around her waist in an effort to bring her body even closer to his.

_If you should awake in the still of the night  
Please have no fear  
Just close your eyes  
Then you'll realize  
That my love will watch over you, dear, always_

It was Allyson that deepened the kiss, hoping to express her adoration for him the way he so clearly did for her, threading her fingers through his curly hair. Neither noticed that they had stopped dancing, wrapped up instead in their own little world.

"I guess this means you had a good time tonight," he mumbled against her mouth.

"Am having," she corrected, her blue eyes sparkling. She felt his hands travel the length of her back, one of his fingers hooking through the strap of her dress. "Present tense."

That coaxed a grin from him and he kissed her again. "Good."

_Goodnight, my love  
Pleasant dreams and sleep tight, my love  
May tomorrow be sunny and bright  
And bring you closer to me_

"You're too good to me, you know that?" she whispered, running a hand inside his collar.

His eyes met hers and his tone took on a more serious quality. "I can never be too good to you." Kissing her again, so slowly, so tenderly, he hoped she understood how true his statement was.

When she responded with equal emotion, he knew that she did.

_And bring you closer to me_

* * *

They lay in his bed, drowsy and satisfied, his fingers grazing the smooth skin of her bare back, her head pillowed comfortably on his shoulder, listening to the light December breeze rustle leaves outside the window.

"What a beautiful night," she sighed contentedly. "Did you plan the weather, too?"

"Honestly? We could have had a full-blown hurricane, and I wouldn't have cared," he told her. "I just wanted the two of us to have a good date." He felt her mouth curve into a broad grin against his chest before she answered.

"I think it went pretty well," she offered, tracing an imaginary line down his abdomen.

Goosebumps formed on his flesh in the wake of her touch, and his smile mirrored hers. "Me too."

"The question is, though," she continued, her finger turning to following the hem of the bed sheet across his waist, "what do we do for our second date?"

He blew out a breath in pretend bewilderment. "I just don't know. How do we top this? All I have left is the rest of the playlist I made…we only made it through the first song."

"Well, there's always Christmas," she reminded him. "We'll have a whole different set of things to experience if you come with me to Buffalo."

He pressed his lips together briefly, then brushed a long lock of hair off her shoulder. "Why don't we worry about that later," he suggested. "Right now, let's just be here, together. Can we do that?"

"Yes." She nodded her head slightly for emphasis. "I don't want to be anywhere you're not."

His large hand found a home in the small of her back, his eyelashes sweeping down over his cheeks as he looked longingly at the woman in his bed. "Good answer," he smiled.

She grinned in return, then stifled a yawn against his chest. "It's late," she mumbled sleepily, peeking at the clock on the nightstand. "We should actually try and get some sleep before the alarm goes off."

He sighed, acquiescing halfheartedly. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But not until I get a goodnight kiss," he insisted.

She chuckled in response. "If I remember correctly, I gave you several goodnight kisses this evening."

"You gave me several kisses," he agreed, "but none of them were _goodnight_ kisses. And I think I deserve one after this date."

"You're certainly right about that," she smiled. Raising herself up on her forearms, she leaned in and brushed her lips over his, her smile growing when he pulled her down to him and kissed her again more deeply.

Drawing away reluctantly after a long moment, she smiled softly at him in the darkness. "Goodnight," she murmured, curling up next to him.

He shifted onto his side, leaving a kiss on her shoulder as he made himself comfortable with her in his arms. "Goodnight."


	12. Not Just a Paycheck

A/N: This one is based on the season 2 ep "Wannabe", so if you recognize the case that's why. If you haven't seen the episode, I think I've written the chapter in such a way that you'll know what's going on anyway without feeling like you're missing something.

Enjoy!

**

* * *

**

Chapter 12: Not Just a Paycheck

* * *

Allyson looked at the Caller ID on her cell phone and smiled as she flipped it open. "Hey handsome."

On the other end of the line Tim smiled in return, despite the less-than-spectacular day he'd been having. "Hey. Are you busy? Do you have a minute?"

"I'm at the store," she told him, leaning on her arms against the handle of her shopping cart. "I have as long as it takes me to find all the things on my grocery list."

"Good. I need you to do me a favor."

She could hear the fatigue and frustration in his voice and didn't hesitate with her answer. "Name it."

"Can you go to my place and pick out something suitable for a witness to wear to court?" he asked.

She knew he was squinting at his surroundings as he spoke, that semi-pained expression he often wore when asking for help now on his face. "You have to go to court? Tonight?"

He shook his head a little, even though she couldn't see him. "Not tonight, and the clothes aren't for me. There's been, uh, a development in this case I caught today, and I need to prep this kid for a hearing tomorrow."

"How big a kid?" she wondered, already mentally combing through Tim's closet.

"Older than your students, and about a foot shorter than me," he replied. "All he needs is a tie, maybe a jacket or something…whatever I have that might fit."

"I'll find something," she assured him. "Do I have time to finish shopping, or should I go now?"

He frowned and glanced through the glass at his charge, who was waiting patiently at a conference table. "Sooner is better," he decided.

"Okay, I'm on my way then," she answered readily. "Meet me in the lobby in an hour?"

The prospect of seeing her, even for a few minutes at work, softened the harsh set of his features. "Now who's too good to who?" he replied, a gentle teasing tone creeping into his voice.

Forty-five minutes later, aided by a few back roads and several green lights, Allyson stepped off the elevator into the Crime Lab's lobby, hanger in hand, and asked at the reception desk for Tim.

He appeared from around the corner before the officer there could even page him. "Wow, that was fast," he commented, a faint smile playing around his lips.

"Is this what you had in mind?" she returned, holding up the hanger.

He took it and inspected the vest and tie she offered, relaxing visibly. "This will definitely work."

"And now it's one less thing to worry about," she added with her own small smile.

He nodded, sighing heavily. "Yeah. Now if only I can get this kid ready enough that the defense attorney doesn't tear him to shreds on the stand, I'll be all set."

Reaching out to run a hand over his arm, her smile deepened. "Well, if anyone can buck up a witness, Tim, it's you."

His mind flashed back all those months to Allyson's participation in a lineup to try and identify her attacker. He had talked her through the process beforehand, had stayed with her while she waited to go in, holding her hand to help ease her fears, and had been waiting for her afterward with the warmth and comfort she had needed. "The tough ones, at least," he replied softly, recalling how strong she'd been through the whole thing. He allowed the moment to hang in the air only briefly, however, before glancing at his watch. "I gotta go," he told her, reaching out and taking her hand, squeezing it affectionately in a good-bye gesture.

"Go," she told him, squeezing back. "You'll be late tonight, won't you?"

He pressed his lips together and nodded again. "Yeah."

She moved closer to him and lowered her voice, her eyelashes sweeping down to hide her bright eyes. "I'll see you when you get home."

He watched her step back into the elevator, evading an exiting CSI, and locked eyes with her until the doors slid closed. _"When you get home" she said. And no matter where we sleep, at my place or hers, it _is_ home. Because she's there._

* * *

When he finally dragged himself through his apartment door that night Tim dropped his keys and badge on the nearest table, following them with his wallet and gun, still in its holster. Glancing around the place, he noted the glow emanating from his bedroom, accompanied by the muffled sounds of unfamiliar voices. _She's watching TV in bed again._

Picking up a little more steam, he moved down the short hallway and swung quietly around the corner, pausing in the doorway to allow his eyes to adjust to the difference in lighting, taking in the sight of Allyson's form tucked under a light blanked in his bed.

"Are you gonna come in, or are you just gonna stand there looking at me?"

He chuckled at her question. "I didn't know if you were still awake," he explained, entering the room and stretching out onto the mattress beside her.

She turned onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow, smiling as he leaned in and kissed her tenderly. "You know I don't sleep very well without you," she reminded him when she drew away.

He kissed her again, slowly, caressing her face with his thumb. "Maybe not, but you sometimes doze off on your own, and I didn't want to wake you up."

"Well, I'm awake now," she said, her voice half cheerful, half groggy. "How did it go with your witness?"

Tim rolled his eyes and sighed, dropping his head onto the pillow. "He started out as a suspect this morning," he told her. "One minute I'm processing a crime scene, the next minute I'm chasing after some guy who stole something from it. I ended up spending half the day tracking him down, only to find out he's this young guy who's got some sort of addiction to forensics."

Allyson didn't bother hiding her smile. "That doesn't sound like anyone I know."

"Who…me?"

"Yes you," she laughed lightly, running a hand over his chest. "You may not want to admit it, but you're a bit of an addict yourself."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but rolled onto his back and declined to comment further. _She's probably right._ "He took a latex glove from my crime scene, and even had it sealed in his own 'evidence envelope' when we found him. It's the glove the killer wore, and I can prove it, but the chain of custody is all screwed up now—"

"—and the defense is going to try and suppress it," she finished for him. "Is that why you were prepping him?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, sighing again. "He has to testify tomorrow morning about where he found the glove and what he did with it. He's got to convince the judge that he didn't contaminate the evidence, but he's so naïve…I mean really, really green, you know? He even turned up at the lab a few hours ago with this kind of lost look on his face, like he didn't know where else to go."

She read the expression in his eyes in the flickering light of the TV. "And you let him stay, didn't you?"

"Yeah." He picked up a lock of her hair and twirled it leisurely around his finger. "He helped me number pages in the case file and stuff for a while. Didn't look so lost when he left."

Shifting onto her stomach, she crossed her arms over his chest and lowered herself onto them, peering at him through her eyelashes. "You did a good thing for him today."

His arms encircled her, his index finger traveling gently over the strap of her nightgown. "I just hope he holds up tomorrow."

* * *

They said their good-byes at the door the next morning, Tim decked out in his best dress clothes for court, Allyson more comfortable in khakis and scoop-necked shirt.

"Good luck," she smiled, reaching up to straighten his tie and brush her lips over his.

He bent down to kiss her again, sliding a hand down her back and pulling her against him, holding her close for as long as he could. "Thanks," he whispered in her ear. "We're gonna need it."

They parted reluctantly, each going their separate ways to their separate days, with plans to meet up for dinner at Allyson's later that evening.

The end of the day didn't come soon enough for Tim, though, after an unexpected and somber turn of events in his case. He slammed his locker door shut and stalked out of the lab as quickly as he could after punching out, trying to make it out of the building without any sort of confrontation.

He almost did.

"Hey Tim," Calleigh called, catching him just as he reached the parking lot.

He spun slowly around, not bothering to disguise the harsh sigh that escaped him. "What?"

She pressed her lips together, not expecting a warm reception from him, but a little taken aback at the severity of his response. In true Calleigh fashion, she hid it quickly and continued gently, "I heard about your case today. I just wanted to see if you needed anything—I am still your friend."

"You want to know what I need?" he barked. "I need to get on my bike and drive really fast. I need to get out of here and go home."

"To Allyson?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes, Calleigh, to Allyson."

She knew he didn't want to have this argument again, especially not after this case, but he didn't turn away either. Her expression softened, and she crossed her arms loosely in front of her. "Can you just tell me why?" she asked quietly. "Why her?"

"Because I love her," he stated firmly. "Maybe you don't believe me, maybe you don't even think I'm capable of love, but I don't care. Today was not the best day I've ever had and all I want right now is to be with her."

He was gone before she could reply, but not before she read the sincerity in his eyes. Behind all the hurt and anger, behind his grief over the case, she saw the truth in his statement. _Eric was right, this isn't just a casual thing for Tim. He's really in love with this woman._

She remained outside for a few minutes, turning that thought over in her mind, wondering if she'd been wrong to judge Tim's relationship with Allyson so quickly…or so harshly. _But my concerns still stand…_

* * *

When Allyson arrived home she found Tim already there, waiting for her in the living room. His head was lolled back against the couch where he sat, shoulders slumped, eyes staring blankly at the television. Gone were the tie and the suit coat, and his dress shirt was un-tucked, hanging loosely around him. _Something bad happened._

"Hey," she greeted him gently, moving across the room and sitting down beside him, sliding a hand over his thigh. "How'd it go?"

He glanced at her, but it was a delayed response and his voice was flat when he answered. "He's dead."

She took his hand and slipped her free arm around his shoulders. "Who?"

"Wally," he replied hoarsely. "My witness."

"Oh Tim, I'm so sorry," she whispered, bowing her head against his.

He squeezed her hand and leaned back, allowing his stubbly cheek to rest on her hair. "He did it himself," he told her softly. "With an axe that I pointed out to him wasn't the artifact he thought it was."

"You couldn't have known," she soothed.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I was showing off," he returned, clearing his throat roughly, "telling him it wasn't authentic. I wanted him to know he wasn't as important as he thought he was…"

She heard him sniffle, felt his breathing becoming irregular as he tried to hold back his emotions. "But when he came looking for acceptance, you gave it to him," she reminded him. "You sat with him, gave him a place to feel welcome, even if it was only for a couple of hours."

He didn't respond verbally, but tightened his hold on her hand and sniffled again, prompting her to turn herself slowly onto his lap and pull him closer. She nuzzled his cheek, combing her fingers through the curls at the base of his neck, trying to impart comfort through her touch. His eyes closed as he breathed in her scent, attempting to calm himself, soaking in the feel of her arms around him, of her in his arms. He allowed a tear to slip down his cheek, his composure cracking a little more when she brushed it away.

More tears trickled from his dark eyes, dripping down his face and onto her shirt, but he didn't care. And he knew she didn't either, that she would be there with him for as long as he needed her.


	13. Party and Parting

A/N: It's like New Music Tuesdays on iTunes, isn't it? And hopefully the weekly updates will continue through the summer. I know, famous last words, right? But stranger things have happened. At any rate, here's the newest chapter in our little tale. For the record, my favorite part is the first kitchen scene...you'll understand why when you read it :D

* * *

Chapter 13: **Party and Parting**

* * *

"You want me to do what?"

The expression on Tim's face was pure confusion as he stood in his kitchen with Allyson, preparing homemade meatballs for Alexx's Christmas party later that evening.

She chuckled, moving behind him and grasping his hands. "I want you to put your hands in this bowl," she punctuated her statement by mashing his hands into the bowl of raw hamburger and other ingredients, "and mix everything together."

He made an "eww" face when his fingers came into contact with the concoction and just stood there for a moment. "Why aren't you doing this?"

"Because I did everything else," she explained, a smile still playing around her lips as she drew back, "and you wanted to help."

He began squeezing the mixture between his fingers reluctantly. "Well remind me to specify a less disgusting job next time."

That earned him a laugh. "Tim, you process decomposed _bodies_," she reminded him. "How can you be so grossed out by hamburger?"

A raw egg squished under his thumb and he winced involuntarily. "Because I generally don't have to put my hands into said body and mix all the parts together."

"Okay," she acquiesced, making a face of her own, "I see your point."

Before he could reply, though, the cordless phone in the living room rang. "Can you get that, Ally?"

She kissed his shoulder before departing the kitchen. "While you wash up? Sure."

He scraped off as much of the hamburger residue as he could, then proceeded to run his hands under the hottest water he could stand, squirting some dishwashing soap into one of them and lathering liberally, listening to Allyson answered the phone in the other room.

"Hello?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," the voice on the other end of the line said, "I must have the wrong number. I was looking for my son."

"Mrs. Speedle?"

"Yes," the woman answered, half cautiously, half curiously.

Allyson grinned into the phone. "You have the right number…Tim's just in the kitchen."

Putting two and two together, Mrs. Speedle smiled as well. "You must be Allyson, then," she deduced. "Tim told us about you. And he mentioned that you've somehow managed to get him to learn to cook."

"Well, I don't know about 'learn to cook'," Allyson told her cheerfully. "But he's certainly a willing helper." She caught the revolted expression on his face as he joined her in the living room and suppressed another laugh, "Most of the time."

"That's still progress," Mrs. Speedle explained. "He used to always eat cereal—no fuss, no muss."

"That sounds like Tim," Allyson replied. "He's right here—let me give you to him." She offered him the receiver and answered his unasked question. "It's your mother."

He took the phone and Allyson moved back into the kitchen, both to finish the meatballs and to give Tim some privacy. She was rolling the hamburger mixture into balls and dropping them into a casserole dish when he reappeared a few minutes later. "How's everything at home?"

"Good," he responded, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. "Mom wanted to tell me about the new fence they're putting up around the back yard."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, his eyes following her hands as she worked. "Apparently Dad's going to try and do it himself."

"Is you dad handy?" she asked, glancing up at him quickly.

Tim shook his head. "Not really."

Allyson giggled. "Then the fence-thing should be interesting."

"That's why Mom called," he told her, an amused twinkle in his eyes. "She liked you, too."

"In the thirty seconds I talked to her?" she replied with a smile.

He nodded. "She said the same thing…and that maybe it's time they got to know you better."

"Yeah?" She continued rolling meatballs, a pleased expression on her features. "And what do you think?"

He was silent for a long moment, his eyes downcast and focused on the floor. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "I don't know."

She stopped and turned to him, meatball still in her hand. "What do you mean you don't know?" she asked, surprised.

He shrugged his shoulders and looked at the countertop. "I mean I don't know. I don't know if it's a good idea."

Dropping the meatball into the casserole dish, she turned and leaned against the sink, trying to keep her voice even. "Why not?"

_How do I explain this to her? _"It's just…I don't know," he repeated, pressing his lips together. "Can we talk about this later?"

Something was obviously bothering him, but Allyson elected to let it go, at least for the moment. "Okay," she agreed. "Why don't you go get ready then?"

He nodded and headed for the bathroom, thoughts running around his mind. _Ally and my parents…that's going to go well…_

* * *

"Calleigh," Eric greeted her with a big smile, approaching her in Alexx's living room. When she didn't respond, he tried again. "Calleigh?"

"Hmm?" She turned to face him, but her eyes remained trained on something else.

He followed her gaze to where Tim stood with Allyson, his hand resting on the small of her back as they talked to Horatio and his sister-in-law, Detective Yelina Salas. "Oohhh," he replied knowingly. "You're stalking Tim and Allyson again."

"Not stalking," she corrected, flicking her eyes to his. "Observing."

He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "Well, you might want to be a little less obvious," he teased, "or someone's going to think you have a problem."

She sighed. "I do have a problem," she confessed, dragging her gaze away from the pair and back to Eric. "I think I might have been a little hard on her, but I still don't like the fact that Tim's with her."

"So you're watching them…why? To see what they're like together?" She nodded grudgingly, and he continued, "So what have you seen so far?"

"They parted at the door when they came in: he went to talk to some of the detectives, and she went into the kitchen with a dish. They met at the bar and poured their own drinks, then walked around a little bit. He's keeping his arm around her, but she's not responding to him at all."

"And what does that say to you?" he inquired lightly.

"That he's more interested in her than she is in him," Calleigh replied with a sigh. "Which is exactly what I thought."

Eric shook his head, grinning at her. "You're looking for evidence to support your theory, CSI Duquense," he admonished. "Look harder." She discreetly turned her head again and caught sight of Tim and Allyson, studying them as Eric spoke. "See how close she's standing to him? How her head is tilted toward him a little bit?"

Calleigh didn't respond, but she could see what he was pointing out.

"See how H is smiling at her? That's not the smile he gives to suspects who thing they've gotten away with something, is it?"

This time she shook her head slightly. "No," she acquiesced. "That's the smile he saves for times when he's really pleased with something."

"Or someone," Eric added, eyebrows raised.

"Or someone," she echoed reluctantly.

He studied her, watching her as she watched Tim and Allyson, and knew she still didn't get it. Taking her hand, he steered her away from the couple and led her outside into the back yard, clear of the crowd.

"Why are you so adamant about defending this girl?" she wondered, following him to a pair of empty chairs and sitting down beside him.

"I'm not defending her. In fact, this has nothing to do with Allyson," he tried to explain. "Look, just go with me for a second here, okay?" She nodded sullenly, and he pressed his lips together, figuring out how to best phrase his words so that she would understand. "I want you to forget everything you know about her for a minute, just forget she exists at all."

She sighed again, but did as he asked. "Okay."

"How would you rate Horatio's judgment of people?"

"Good," she decided. "He reads people as well as anyone I know."

"Have you ever known him to do or say anything that might jeopardize the Lab in any way?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Of course not. If anything, he goes out of his way to protect it…and us."

"Okay," Eric smiled. "So when H says something—or someone—is good to go, then we can trust him, right?"

She knew where he was going, but had to admit he was right. "Yes."

"What about Speed?" he asked next. "How well does he read people?" She opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off with a waggling finger. "Remember, Allyson doesn't exist…"

Calleigh frowned. "Tim's a pretty good judge of character, too," she said, one eyebrow quirked in mild irritation at the interruption. "And, no, I don't think he would ever do anything to hurt the Lab, either," she continued, answering his unasked question. "Not intentionally."

"And that's your theory, isn't it?" Eric wondered. "That Allyson has somehow clouded Speed's judgment." She nodded her confirmation. "Remember that case last year? The one he caught with the dead marathon-runner and the girlfriend that kept making moves on him?"

Calleigh almost chuckled at the memory. "I remember. He was _not_ happy working that case."

"He complained the whole time," Eric laughed. "That woman drove him crazy playing those games with him."

"Her name was Alison, too," Calleigh pointed out.

"Subtle, Cal," Eric grinned. "Yes, they have the same name; yes, they were both part of Speeds' cases. But they aren't the same woman."

She looked into his dark eyes and read what he was trying to say. "You're telling me that Tim would know if this Allyson was trying to manipulate him," she said. "That his judgment of people is better than I gave him credit for this time."

"Yep," he returned with a nod.

"And that's why he's so angry with me," she realized. "Because he thinks I don't trust him."

His voice was softer when he replied. "That has something to do with it, yeah."

She sat in silence for several minutes, looking out at the grass, turning things over in her mind, sorting them out logically until the whole picture made sense to her. "And I never even gave Allyson a chance, did I?"

It was a statement, he knew, not a question. "So what do you think?"

Her features were set firmly when she brought her eyes back to his face. "I think I owe Tim an apology," she decided. "But I still reserve the right to pass judgment on Allyson."

"…after you spend some time with her," Eric tacked on with a little smile.

"After I spend some time with her," Calleigh echoed with a small nod. "I suppose that's only fair."

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, his grin returning. "Now you sound like the incredible CSI I know."

* * *

Neither Tim nor Allyson knew about Eric's conversation with Calleigh, nor did either speak to her during the party. She elected to keep a low profile for the rest of the evening, spending more time "observing" and unwinding a bit with the people she knew best, giving herself some time to figure out what she was going to say and when she would say it.

So when they left, Tim and Allyson said good-bye to Alexx and her family, to Horatio and Yelina, to Eric, and to the others they'd interacted with during the evening before climbing into her car for the ride home.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked.

He reached for her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze without taking his eyes off the road in front of them. "Not with you there."

"Well, I like going to these thing," she smiled, squeezing back. "Your friends and colleagues are good people…and they know how to throw parties."

"And they like you," he added with a small smile of his own.

She laughed lightly. "What gave it away? Eric's hello-kiss on my cheek, or Alexx bear-hugging me?"

"Don't forget H…"

"Lieutenant Caine is going to call me 'Miss Brooks' for the rest of my life, isn't he?" she grinned.

"Until you start calling him 'Horatio'," he confirmed teasingly. "Or until you no longer _are_ 'Miss Brooks'. It's a respect thing."

"Well maybe someday he'll graduate to 'Allyson'," she chuckled. "As a friend thing."

"Might take a while," Tim answered thoughtfully, "but I can see that happening."

They rode in an easy quite for several miles before Allyson spoke again. "Tim, can I ask you something?"

The serious tone in her voice drew his focus off the traffic and back to her. "What?"

She frowned. "How is it that you're more than okay with me spending time with your friends, and your boss, but you're not sure if I should get to know your parents?"

He bristled unintentionally. "What kind of question is that?"

"An honest one," she replied slowly. "Are you worried that they'll react the way Calleigh did? Or is there some other reason you don't want them to know me?"

He sighed harshly. "I told you I don't know…I can't explain it…"

"You've been sensitive about my family lately, too," she pointed out. "Every time I bring up going to Buffalo for Christmas—"

He snatched his hand away from her. "Maybe I don't want to talk about it," he snapped.

"We always talk about things," she reminded him as gently as she could. "Why won't you talk about this?"

"Why do you keep pushing?" he countered. "Why can't you just let it go?"

"Because it's important," she returned quickly. "Family is important to me."

His eyebrows drew together. "And you don't think it's important to me?"

"That's not what I said…"

"Maybe it's what you meant," he said.

"I didn't, Tim—you know that…"

He pressed his lips together, his foot tapping erratically against the floor of the car. "What I know is that you should go to Buffalo for Christmas…without me."

"What? Without you? You're not spending Christmas with me now? What's going on with you?"

He shook his head, more to himself than at Allyson, but didn't respond verbally. Instead they drove the rest of the way in silence, the air thick and heavy, holding none of the content that was present at the beginning of the drive.

Once they arrived at his apartment, he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition and the engine running. He went straight for his door, pausing only to look back at her for the briefest of moments before turning and disappearing up the stairs._ Everything was going so well…and it turned ugly _so _fast…_

Allyson stepped out of the car, but made no move to follow him, to stop him. _Going after him will only make things worse_, she realized. _Maybe I _should_ just go to Buffalo alone. Maybe we need some space, some time apart._

She climbed into the driver's seat and slowly pulled the seatbelt around her, picturing herself lying in her empty bed, without Tim. _But I don't want space. I want to know what's going on._

At the top of the stairs, Tim stood in front of his apartment door, seeing a similar picture in his mind: his own empty bed, without Allyson. He was angry, yes, but not really with her. And he didn't want space, either. _I want her. But I just screwed things up, didn't I?_


	14. Understanding

A/N: This is a day later than I wanted to post, but I couldn't get the end to cooperate (as usual--endings are the toughest part for me most of the time). I've got it about where I want it now, and so here it is, for your enjoyment.

**

* * *

**

Chapter 14: Understanding

* * *

Allyson stood in front of Eric's front door, her arm half raised, fist curled and ready to knock. But she hesitated. _Is this going to be awkward after what happened with Tim and me?_ After several long seconds she finally knocked, and waited nervously for an answer.

He swung the door open and smiled brightly, instantly easing her fears. "Hey Allyson," he greeted her. "Come on in." He closed the door behind her and slid an arm around her, pulling her to him in a loose hug and pecking her on the cheek. "How are you doing?"

She could tell by the sympathetic expression on his face that he knew about the fight. "I'm okay," she told him with a half-smile.

He released her and paused a moment, studying her face, noting the dark circles under her eyes, the pallor of her skin. "Then why do you look like you haven't slept in a week?"

"Five days," she corrected softly.

"Five days?" he repeated.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Ever since the attack, I-I don't sleep well when I'm alone."

"And you've been alone for five days," he realized quickly. Reaching out and sliding a hand over her arm, he squeezed affectionately. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sure you two will sort things out soon. You have to," he chuckled, "because Speed looks like crap. If you guys are apart any longer he's going to turn into a caveman."

That earned him a small laugh. "You know how he is."

"Yeah, I do," Eric replied earnestly. "And I know how much he cares about you. It'll all work out." He waited a moment, then grinned lightly. "In the meantime, if you need someone to sleep on your couch so that you're not alone, I'm your guy."

Her smile grew soft at his offer. "Thanks, Eric," she responded with sparkling eyes. "I appreciate that."

"Yeah, well, I appreciate the shopping assistance," he told her, releasing her arm and grabbing his wallet. "I love my sisters, but I never seem to pick out the right things on my own."

"That's because you're a guy," she chuckled, exiting through the door as he held it open for her.

"And I don't know the first thing about shopping," he confessed, following her out to her car. "So where do we start?"

"We have two options," she decided. "We can go to the mall, where there are millions of cranky holiday shoppers, but also a variety of stores, so we can get a lot done without driving around too much." She halted briefly as she ducked into the driver's seat, resuming when Eric had seated himself beside her. "Or, we can go to some specialty stores, where there are fewer people, but we'll have to do more driving."

Eric wrinkled up his nose in distaste. "So, it's really the lesser of the two evils."

"Yeah."

"Calleigh and I usually just go to the mall," he explained. "Now I guess I know why. Dodging people with shopping bags is less dangerous than dodging people in cars."

She laughed a little. "The mall it is."

Once they turned into the acres of parking lot, the hunt began: for a parking space, for the right store, for the right gift. They strolled around the mall, fighting crowds of anxious holiday shoppers, fussy children, and cranky sales people, but managed to find a few items of interest. There were the matching baskets of lotions and bath salts for Eric's sisters, the earrings for his mother, the bathrobe for Allyson's father, and the DVDs for Amanda.

They were poking around an electronics store when Eric's pager went off. He pulled it from his belt while Allyson inspected the different models of iPods in the glass case in front of them. She looked up when she heard him groan.

"Work?"

He frowned. "Work. Multiple fatalities, all hands on deck."

"Okay, I'll get this real quick and then we'll go," she told him, signaling the clerk behind the counter.

* * *

Allyson drove to the Crime Lab directly, rather than taking Eric home first, cutting the engine when they arrived and hopping out of the car to unlock the trunk where his purchases were stashed. "Think there's enough room in your locker for all that?"

He grinned. "Yeah, especially since you talked me out of getting a new vacuum cleaner for my mother."

They said their good-byes with hugs and pecks on cheeks, and Eric headed inside. As he moved toward the building, though, Allyson noticed a familiar figure walking away from it. She watched the woman's businesslike stride, watched her hesitate when their eyes met.

_Calleigh._

The CSI changed directions, making her way to the space where Allyson had parked, a determined expression on her face. Her voice was even when she spoke. "Hi Allyson."

"Hi Calleigh," the teacher returned neutrally. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you have a minute…to talk?" Calleigh asked.

Allyson nodded. "Sure."

Calleigh wavered a brief instant before deciding just to plunge ahead. "I'm sorry," she began, folding her arms across her chest. Allyson didn't react, didn't reply, so she continued, "I, um, judged you based almost entirely on the fact that you were a victim in one of Tim's cases…I let that fact alone shape my opinion about you, and that wasn't fair."

"No, it wasn't," Allyson agreed. "But I'm assuming there's some sort of explanation coming."

"Yeah." Calleigh glanced at the car parked behind them, then brought her green eyes back to Allyson's blue ones. "I freaked out, basically," she admitted, gesturing with her hands and bringing them to rest on her hips. "Tim is my friend, and…I was worried about him. I know that he can take care of himself, but after he met you he started acting different. Not _bad_ different," she clarified, "but different. And I didn't know if he was thinking clearly—I didn't want anything to happen to him, to his cases, to the reputation of this lab. I guess I just went into protect mode, but it didn't come out that way."

Allyson smiled a small smile. "I can understand that," she said. "My best friend has sort of an iffy track record with men. And every time she starts telling me about the new guy in her life, my antenna automatically goes up. I want to tell her to be careful, or that he's a jerk or a loser. I want her to see what I see about him."

"But did you ever yell those things at her in the middle of a party?" Calleigh asked with an embarrassed chuckle.

"No," Allyson replied thoughtfully. Then she grinned. "But I've wanted to on more than one occasion. She's just so thick-headed sometimes that I want to grab her shoulders and shake some sense into her, y'know?"

Calleigh laughed lightly. "Tim's the same way. He just won't listen, and the more insistent you are, the more he shuts you off."

"Exactly." Then Allyson became more serious. "I would never do anything to hurt Tim, Calleigh, in any way. And that means professionally, too."

"So if you had thought, even for a minute, that the two of you shouldn't be together, you'd have stopped seeing him?" Calleigh asked pointedly.

Allyson smothered a smile. _She doesn't mince words, does she? _"I would have insisted we come up with another game plan," she answered. "I want him in my life, but I don't want to screw up his."

The two women stood there together for a moment in silence, nodding.

"So you and I both really had the same overall goal," Calleigh recognized, "to protect Tim and the lab."

"We just had different methods of trying to reach that goal," Allyson grinned.

Calleigh laughed again. "I'll say." She pressed her lips together, contemplating her next words. "Look, I can't promise that I'll like you or you'll like me, or that we'll get along and be best friends. But I would like to get to know you, to make up my mind about all of you and not just what I read in your case file."

"I think that's a good idea," Allyson seconded. "I don't know much about you, either. Maybe we could have lunch sometime," she suggested.

"Or go to the firing range," Calleigh added with a sly smile.

Allyson chuckled. "I could use the practice."

"You shoot?"

The surprise in Calleigh's voice, in her face, made Allyson smile proudly. "Tim taught me."

"In case you need to use his weapon," Calleigh surmised with a nod. "That's smart."

"He has his moments, doesn't he?" Allyson laughed.

The criminalist studied the woman before her, the beginnings of understanding forming in her mind. "Yeah, he does."

* * *

Allyson was exiting Tim's bedroom that evening, a few folded articles of clothing in her arms, when she heard the front door open and slam shut. Seconds later, he was standing there in front of her.

"I, um…I just came by to get a few things for Buffalo," she told him slowly. "I meant to be gone before you got home."

In true Speedle fashion, his response was minimal. "Oh."

He stood there looking at her, or rather, looking past her, and she found herself becoming angry. "So this is how it is now?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "You're just not going to talk to me at all?"

"What do you want me to say?" he responded flatly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Anything," she told him, struggling to keep her voice even. "Just talk to me."

He looked further away, his voice quiet when he replied. "I can't. Not about this."

Allyson was torn. On one hand, she was sympathetic to Tim—whatever was going on obviously bothered him, and she hated to see him upset. On the other hand, his refusal to trust her with his problem after she had trusted him with all of hers made her angry. Both emotions played across her face when she spoke. "Not about this? What could be so bad that you can't talk to me about it?" she asked. "I love you, Tim. You know all my secrets, all my problems. You were there with me through the worst part of my life, and you've been a part of every aspect of it since. You've been to school events, you've met my friends, you know my family. Why can't you reciprocate with this?"

His eyes slowly shifted to hers, knowing the hurt she was experiencing was because of him. _This was not supposed to happen. _"I know," he told her softly, longing to reach out and wrap her in his arms, to kiss her and feel her smile against his mouth. He cleared his throat, digging his fingers into his thighs inside his pockets. "I just—"

"—can't explain it," she finished for him. "Yeah, you mentioned that."

"Yet," he added. He waited for her to process the word before continuing. "Yes, I have a problem with you and my parents, and no, I can't talk about it. Yet." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, searching for the right words. "What I mean is, everything is all mixed up in my head, and I can't explain it to you until it makes sense to me."

"I can help you sort it out," she offered. "That's what I'm here for, right?"

He shook his head lightly. "I have to do this on my own," he decided. "At least for now. But we _will_ talk about it, and I _am_ going to need your help figuring out a solution…when I'm ready for that part. I don't want you to think I'm keeping things from you." He stepped forward, reaching out and clasping one of her hands in his. "I've never kept anything from you."

She squeezed his hand warmly, relief flooding her system at his touch. "I know. That's why I freaked out," she explained, hints of a smile tugging at her lips. "Promise me this isn't going to happen again."

"What? That we won't fight again?" he wondered. "Ally, you know I can't promise that—"

"No," she shook her head. "Promise me that you're not going to shut me out again, even for a minute." She drew closer to him, the clothes in her arm pressed between them. "If you need time, or space, or whatever, I can understand that. Just tell me that's what's going on, okay? Don't leave me out of the loop."

He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, running his thumb over the smooth skin of her hand still clasped in his. "Okay," he answered tenderly. "I'm just not used to having to do that—I've never been this close to anyone before, never had anyone worry like that when I get a little…introspective."

"Well, now you do," she murmured.

"I need you to promise me something, too," he told her, his free arm sliding around her waist.

"What's that?"

"That you won't tell me you love me by yelling at me anymore," he answered.

She drew even closer to him, her lips brushing against his ear. "I love you," she whispered, and she could feel his mouth pulling into a grin against her cheek.

His lips found hers in a gentle kiss, separating only briefly to mumble a happy response before capturing them again. "I love you, too."


	15. A Little Talking Goes A Long Way

A/N: I know, I_ know..._it's been far too long since I updated this poor little tale, but I am fixing that right now--with the promise of more to come. I've got a couple of chapters waiting in the wings for a good proofreading and so many more floating around in my head, so stay tuned!

* * *

"Hey Tim."

The lilting southern accent was soft in Calleigh's voice as she entered the locker room, walking slowly toward Tim as he stood at his locker.

He glanced at her briefly, then went back to stowing his possessions. "Yeah."

"Got a minute?"

He pulled his motorcycle helmet from atop the locker, hefting it in one hand and closing the door with the other. "Yeah," he repeated, "but _only_ a minute. I promised Ally I'd take her to the airport."

"You're not spending Christmas together?" Calleigh asked, surprised.

He shifted his weight, meeting her gaze. "She's going to see her family. Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"No," she shook her head, switching gears. "I, uh, owe you an apology."

"Yes, you do."

The statement wasn't malicious or angry, she noted, but evenly voiced. "I have always trusted you professionally," she told him. "I know you would never do anything to jeopardize a case, or this lab."

"But my personal judgment is suspect," he added, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Is that it?"

"No," she answered quickly. "I mean, yes, in a way. That's why I need to apologize to you." She paused a moment, collecting her thoughts and taking step closer to him. "When you first caught Allyson's case, that's all it was: just a case. But somewhere along the way things changed…_you _changed. I've never seen you so involved with a victim before—"

"I didn't do anything wrong," he interrupted, his irritation beginning to bleed through. "_We_ didn't. There was nothing improper—"

It was her turn to interrupt. "I know," she assured him, holding up a hand, palm out. "I know that now." She slid her hands into her pockets and shifted her eyes to her feet before refocusing them on Tim. "I'm sorry," she told him gently. "I was worried that she had some kind of influence over you, and I should have known better than to think that. You've always been an independent thinker, no matter what anyone else had to say, and I should have known that you wouldn't be swayed."

"I wasn't _swayed_. What Ally and I have is mutual," he responded, "not something that she had to talk me into."

Calleigh shook her head again. "I didn't mean that," she tried. "But you and I both have encountered our share of manipulative women, and victims that become attached to those who help them. Allyson might have been one of those; I didn't know."

"Because you didn't know her."

This time she nodded. "That's right. And I'm…I'm trying to do something about that."

The expression on his face relaxed a bit. "Ally told me you two, uh, came to an understanding."

"We did," she confirmed. "It wasn't—isn't—my place to judge, especially when I don't have all the facts, and I apologize for doing it." He pressed his lips together in thought, then nodded slowly, and she knew things were going to be okay between them.

"I gotta go," he said, glancing at his watch.

She stepped aside and allowed him to pass, stopping him just as he reached the door. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

He halted and turned, his features showing some of his impatience. "What?"

"Why didn't you tell me? About you and Allyson?"

"I think we've learned that getting involved with a victim, no matter when it happens, isn't something you advertise," he reminded her.

"You told Eric," she responded. "And I know that you two are close, but—"

"I didn't tell him," he corrected. "I didn't tell anyone. He figured out on his own that Ally and I had gotten to be friends."

"And when you became…more than friends?" she pressed.

Tim made a noise that was half grunt, half chuckle. "He figured that out, too. I just confirmed it."

"So you weren't concealing your relationship with her?"

He read the unspoken part of her question on her face. _From you, you mean. _"We weren't exactly putting up billboards," he told her. "But we weren't hiding it either. From anyone. I figured once Delko knew he'd tell you."

"He did," she responded with a small smile, "but it would have been nice to hear it from you instead of the office grapevine."

_And that was the other part of the problem_, he surmised, reading her expression once more. _Busted again on the bad communication skills. I guess I'm going to have to work on that. _He gave her a little nod and pushed the locker room door open, knowing she would understand the full meaning behind his simple answer. "Okay."

She watched him go, her eyes trained on the door after he disappeared through it, her small smile widening. Yes, she had been in the wrong, and yes, she was rather ashamed of herself for jumping to conclusions so blindly.

But she had her friend back.

———

A few days later, on Christmas Eve, Tim was again discovered in the locker room at the end of his shift, this time by Eric. The younger CSI nodded to his colleague, heading to his own locker with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Good, you're ready to go."

Tim frowned. "Go where?"

"Out for a beer," Eric told him, the tone of his voice implying that his friend should have known where.

Tim shook his head, glancing at the inside of his locker door before turning his eyes on Eric. "Not tonight."

Eric was not dissuaded. "Yes tonight. Come on."

"I'm going home," Tim replied resolutely.

"No, you're not," Eric grinned, clearly amused by the irritation he was causing. "You're going out with me for a beer before I go over to my mom's, because I know you won't go with us to Mass tonight, and I'm pretty sure I can't get you to come to the Delko family Christmas tomorrow. But if I leave you alone, you'll just sit and mope."

Tim's dark eyes focused on the inside of the locker door again as he spoke. "I won't mope. I _don't _mope."

Eric chuckled. "When does she get back?"

Tim raised an eyebrow at him and briefly considered playing dumb, but knew there was no point in evading the question. "Tuesday."

"New Year's Eve," Eric added, pulling Tim's locker door back to get a good look at the picture taped there. "That's a nice one."

Tim's eyes lingered on the photo, one taken of Allyson on picture day at school the previous month for the staff section of the yearbook. It wasn't particularly alluring—just her sitting in the usual pose against the usual blue background—but it was _her_. And, for the next week, it was the only way he could see her.

_Maybe I _am _moping._

"Fine," he sighed. "We'll go have a beer. But then I'm going home."

"That's all I'm asking," Eric grinned.

The pair drove separately to a bar they often frequented, one that was lower key than Eric's usual tastes but that wasn't so wild it would drive Tim crazy. Approaching the bartender, Tim ordered their bottles while Eric found a small table near the far wall. Moments later they were seated together, but not before Tim spoke briefly with a woman in a leather mini skirt and a pink halter top as he made his way over.

"Ooo, what did she want?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "She asked if I wanted some company."

"Why didn't you invite her over?" Eric asked, disappointed.

"She's still here if you want to talk to her," Tim told him, gesturing to the other side of the room.

Eric eyed his friend. "But you're not interested."

"No Delko," Tim frowned, "I'm not interested in cheating on my girlfriend."

"I didn't mean _that_," Eric protested. "I just meant, y'know, have a little harmless fun. Maybe she's got a friend and the four of us could hang out for a while. That's all." He studied Tim's face, seeing more than mere disinterest there. "But you don't care." Tim shrugged noncommittally in response, and an idea dawned on Eric. "What about that girl, over there?"

Tim followed Eric's gaze to a pretty blonde sitting on a stool at the bar, dressed a little more conservatively than the mini skirt girl. "What about her?"

"She's a little more your taste, isn't she?"

Tim quirked an eyebrow at his colleague. "Why?"

Eric smiled suggestively. "Maybe you'd rather have her come sit over here with us." When Tim didn't answer, the suggestive smile turned into one of understanding. "She's not doing it for you, either, is she?"

"Why the sudden need to hook me up?" Tim asked in an attempt to deflect the question. "Because you think I need cheering up? I don't need some girl for that—I'll be just fine when Ally comes home."

Eric leaned back in his chair. "I knew it," he replied, shaking his head with mock soberness. "She's got you hooked. You're a total goner."

Tim glared back. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you being so smitten with Allyson that you don't even want to talk to another girl," Eric chuckled. "That's never happened before. It must be pretty serious."

"It is," Tim said firmly.

The tone of his voice made Eric sit up again. "How serious?" he asked guardedly. "You're not thinking of…proposing…are you?"

"You say that like it's the same as jumping in front of a bus," Tim scoffed. Then, seeing the staggered expression on Eric's face, continued, "No, I wasn't thinking of proposing. But I love Ally, and I don't want anyone else. Is that so terrible?"

"Well no," Eric offered apologetically. "Of course not. She's a great girl. And haven't I been the one who keeps telling you she's good for you?" Tim grunted an unintelligible response, and Eric kept talking. "All I'm saying is that marriage is big deal. If you're even thinking about marriage, that's a _big deal_. That's forever, man. With one woman."

"That is the general idea," Tim deadpanned. Having had enough of the conversation he excused himself to the restroom, but halfway there ducked instead into a tiny alcove where a payphone still hung. Taking out his cell phone and flipping it open, he leaned against the yellowed wall and carefully typed a text message with his thumb, a small smile forming on his lips as he pictured it in the hands of its receiver.

———

Allyson sat on the front porch of her parents' house, rocking absently back and forth on the swing that hung at one end. It was dark outside, but in the glare of the floodlight affixed near the roof she could see fluffy white flakes falling as the wind blew snow off the trees. Her cell phone was in one hand, a small box wrapped in red paper with green Christmas trees on it in the other. Within a few minutes the phone chimed, sounding the alert for an incoming text message.

"That's from Tim, isn't it?" Amanda asked cheerfully, climbing the steps with her own package and settling down on the swing. "I can tell by the look on your face."

"I thought it was from you," Allyson replied with a smirk, "telling me you were on your way over. I've been waiting out here for fifteen minutes."

"I know we agreed to exchange presents at eight o'clock, but I couldn't get away," she explained. "My uncle started telling stories about the family back in the day, and I was obligated to stay until he'd told at least one about me."

Allyson laughed. "Uncle Joe! My gosh, I remember when he used to babysit you when you guys first moved to this neighborhood. He was pretty entertaining."

"To you," Amanda reminded her, "when you were nine. He tells the same stories over and over again, so I've heard them a million times. You hadn't back then."

"That's true. But you used to mock him mercilessly," Allyson added with a giggle. "Remember the time your mom caught you doing impressions of him?"

Amanda remembered, but decided to change the subject. "So what does Tim have to say?" She peered over her friend's arm to read the message on the small screen: _I love you. _"Aww! And something tells me Tim's not the kind of guy that uses the L-word lightly, either."

"Nope," Allyson shook her head. "He's not. This is a fairly new thing for us."

"What'd he get you for Christmas, Al? A man's choice of gifts can tell you a lot about the way he feels about you."

Allyson chuckled, recalling her shopping trip with Eric. "A man's choice of gifts can tell you a lot about the person that helped him pick it out. But I don't know what Tim got me yet. We're having our Christmas together when I get back to Miami."

"New Year's Eve?" Amanda asked.

"New Year's Day," Allyson amended. "My neighbor is having a party New Year's Eve, which I talked him into going to, so we're having our own little celebration the next morning."

A crude remark flashed into Amanda's mind, but the soft joy on Allyson's face, in her voice, quelled it. Instead, she said, "I'm glad you two made up in time to do that. Did he ever tell you what was so bad about you meeting his parents?"

"Not yet," Allyson returned. "He's used to working things out on his own."

"He'll come around sooner or later," Amanda responded with a grin. "Probably sooner, judging by that text." Her own phone rang and, after identifying her mother from the Caller ID, she answered it.

With a quick minute to herself, Allyson took the opportunity to send Tim a short reply.

———

He was still hiding in the payphone alcove when his cell phone beeped with an incoming text message. Glancing at Eric waiting for him at the table, he flipped the phone back open and swiftly read Allyson's words, sent from two thousand miles away, the smile growing on his face before he even finished.

_I love you, too._


	16. A New Year

A/N: It's New Year's Eve and Amanda & Allyson are back from Buffalo. Tim & Ally reunion, anyone? :D

Enjoy!

* * *

Amanda sighed heavily as she trudged through Miami International Airport beside Allyson, halting suddenly and throwing her carry-on bag to the floor.

"What's wrong, Manda?"

"What's wrong is that I'm colder now than I was at home," she huffed, rooting around in her bag. After a moment she stood, clutching a Buffalo Bills sweatshirt triumphantly in one hand. "I froze my tail off waiting for our plane in Buffalo wearing flip-flops and a little t-shirt because I knew that when we landed there wouldn't be a snowflake in sight. Then we get to the Sunshine State and I need three layers of clothing just to walk through the airport! Why do they keep the air conditioning cranked up so high?"

Allyson grinned. This was a standard rant whenever the pair traveled between New York and Florida. "Hang in there—it's not like we're mushing the Iditarod. We'll get our luggage, then we can hail a cab outside where it's warmer."

Amanda's frustration melted into a sly smile at her friend's words, but she didn't reply. Instead she pulled the sweatshirt over her head and picked up her bag, resuming her march to Baggage Claim with Allyson in tow. Consulting the monitors along the way, they found the conveyer designated for their flight and headed toward it. Halfway there Amanda's sly smile deepened when she caught sight of a familiar face.

"Eric! Over here!"

As he approached, Allyson's eyes widened. "What are you doing here?" she asked, sliding an arm around him in response to his hug. "Amanda and I were going to take a cab home."

"Until we came up with a better plan," he chuckled, exchanging a meaningful look with Amanda.

"You, my dear, need to get lost," Amanda said, patting Allyson on the back. In response to her friend's confused expression, she continued, pointing, "Your ride is waiting outside those doors over there."

The bewilderment became written even more deeply into Allyson's face. "What?"

Amanda laughed. "Go…that way! Someone is waiting for you, and it isn't Santa Clause!"

"What about our bags?" Allyson protested.

Eric handled that question. "Amanda and I will take care of everything." He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her in the direction of the automatic doors leading to the pick-up area outside, sliding her carry-on off her shoulder. "Just look for the yellow Ducati."

Allyson's eyes widened at the mention of the motorcycle and understanding began to dawn. Another quick glance at Amanda and Eric sent her across Baggage Claim and through the doors, sweeping her blue eyes around the arrivals area in search of a flash of yellow.

After sighting on several taxis she spotted the bike down the road a little way, its owner leaning casually against it in his best James Dean impression. She was halfway to him before she knew it, calling his name.

"Tim!"

His dark eyes met her bright ones, twinkling at her as she approached, his mouth curving into a smile meant only for her. Straightening up, he waited decades for her to cross the crowded street, wrapping her in his arms the moment she was within reach. "Hey."

Despite his disdain for public displays of affection, her lips found his in a warm kiss and followed it up with another before she allowed him to pull away. "Hey," she smiled back.

"Wanna take a ride?"

She took the helmet he offered, her eyes shining up at him. "Oh yeah."

———

The streets of Miami were busy, including old Highway A1A running up the coastline to the beach spot Tim and Allyson were returning to. As he maneuvered through traffic he held the motorcycle in check, opting for safety even as his impatience grew. When they finally did arrive at the beach they found hoards of tourists, most from the northern parts of the country enjoying the warm Florida weather. Allyson, too, smiled brightly as they strolled along the sand, thrilled to be away from the freezing cold that had enveloped her childhood home. Clasping her hand securely in his, Tim allowed himself the luxury of contented smile as well, happy to have her beside him.

It wasn't long, though, before dodging Frisbees and children grew tiresome and the pair headed for home, longing for peace and quiet, for some time alone together. When they pulled into the driveway, the Christmas lights twinkled at them along the roofline of Allyson's house and around the trunk of the palm tree in the front yard in cheerful contrast to the clogged roads, making her chuckle as she dismounted.

"Amanda and Eric were here."

Following behind her and leaving his helmet on one handlebar, Tim spied another surprise as they headed up the front walk. "They turned the tree on, too."

She followed his pointing finger to the big picture window, taking in the sight of her artificial Christmas tree glittering in the living room. "It's so pretty," she smiled softly.

"Even without snow?" he queried curiously.

"Well, snow does complete the picture, but there's something to be said for short sleeves and flip-flops on New Year's Eve," she replied with a laugh.

"There's something to be said for being together during the holidays, too." He produced a key and unlocked the front door, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back as they entered the house. "I'm glad you're back."

She turned easily, sliding her arms around his neck, her smile growing as his arms encircled her waist. "Me too. I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he murmured, kissing her gently.

"No more Christmases apart," she replied, capturing his lips again with hers.

A hand slid up her back, caressing her neck as he managed a response. "Agreed," he mumbled against her mouth. Deepening the kiss, he pulled her closer against him, his fingers combing through her long brown curls, an exquisite warm feeling blooming everywhere her body came in contact with his. "I love you."

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as much at the husky tone of his voice as the words themselves. "I love you, too," she whispered.

Standing there in the living room with Allyson in his arms, all the confusion and worry over his parents' reaction to her melted away, and he knew he wanted to tell her everything, _could_ tell her everything. Drawing back, his dark eyes met her blue ones and he smiled. "Hey, there's a surprise waiting for you in the backyard. Maybe we should go take a look."

She leaned up and kissed him again, mirroring his smile. "It can't wait?"

"Uh, no," he decided. "Let's go see it now."

"Okay." She followed him through the living room and passed the laundry room, allowing him to cover her eyes with his hand and lead her out the back door. Once he had her positioned just so, he removed his hand, settling it on her hip as she reacted. "It's a swing!" she laughed, turning to him. "You got me a porch swing?"

"Delko got you a porch swing," Tim clarified. "Put the thing together himself a few days ago. Said it was a thank-you for the shopping help."

She rotated her gaze back to the two-seated swing, watching parts of the awning waving in the light breeze. "He didn't have to do that. I was happy to go shopping with him."

"I know, but he though you'd like it," Tim told her.

Her smile lit up the yard. "I do. I've been wanting to get one to put out here."

He took her hand and walked her over. "Let's try it out—it looks like a good place to sit and talk."

She heard a sublet shift in his voice and knew something was coming, but didn't push the issue. Sitting down on the cushion beside him, she laid her head in the crook of his neck as his arm slid around her shoulders. "This is nice."

"Yeah," he agreed, kissing her hair. "It is."

They rocked in silence for another moment before Allyson spoke again. "So what should we talk about?"

"My parents."

She straightened up, bracing her elbow on the back of the swing and cradling her cheek in the palm of her hand. "Okay."

His eyes met hers in the twilight, and the words just came out. "I was—I _am_—afraid for you to meet them," he confessed. "I do want you to, though. I want them to spend time with you, and to know you, and to see you the way I see you. But I'm scared. It seems so irrational and stupid…"

She slipped her free hand into his and squeezed his fingers. "So does my fear of spiders," she smiled. "Especially the little ones. But that doesn't make it any less real."

He ran a thumb over her hand in return, appreciating her attempt to put him at ease. "Your family is great," he began again, absently brushing a spray of curls from her neck. "They're warm, and kind, and they're not afraid to show it. My family…" He paused, sighing and glancing down at their clasped hands. "My family is not quite so open."

"That explains where you get it from," she remarked lightly.

"But you still know how I feel about you," he countered, meeting her gaze once more. "I go out of my way to make sure you know how much I love you."

The picture began to clarify for her. "It isn't just a personality trait—you have to work at it because expressing your feelings isn't something you do in your family, is it?"

He shook his head. "No. It definitely isn't."

"And that includes your parents."

He sighed again. "Yeah. They're not the type to greet you at the door with bear hugs when you come over. And I don't want them to offend you, or to make you think they don't like you or approve of you. I…I don't want to lose you because of that."

"You think I'll leave you?" she asked gently, surprised.

"Rationally, I know that lots of people have issues with their in-laws, and that you'd never leave over something like that. We've already been through a lot worse together," he said. Pausing, he pressed his lips together, considering his next words. "I've never…had feelings like this for anyone before, and I don't—I can't imagine my life without you. I know that I overreacted when you talked about visiting my parents over the holidays, but I don't want to be without you."

"You won't." Lifting her head, she transferred her palm from her cheek to his, stroking affectionately. "I'm not going anywhere."

His expression read "relieved", but his answer was still tentative. "You say that now…"

She shook her head. "It's gonna take a lot more than unresponsive parents to get rid of me," she told him firmly. "You know that. As long as you love me, you'll have me. And I know that I get the same promise from you."

He saw the sincerity in her face, heard it in her voice, and his heart swelled proportionally. Reaching out a finger, he traced an invisible line down her scalp and around her ear, corralling a wayward lock of hair and triggering a perceptive smile on her lips. "What?"

"You," she answered, her smile blossoming into a grin. "You don't have to work _that _hard to make your feelings known…at least not to me."

"The hair tuck?" he asked. When she nodded his eyes shifted to a place near her ear and color began to rise in his cheeks. "All I did was touch you."

Cover the small distance between them, she leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, whispering in his ear when they parted. "Sometimes that's all it takes."

———

Allyson awoke the next morning twisted in the blankets of her bed, reaching for Tim who lay beside her. Or should have. Her hand found nothing but cold sheets, prompting her to pick groggily through her memories of the previous evening for an explanation. She recalled sitting on the swing for a long time, cuddled up against Tim and watching stars flicker to life above them. Patchy images of soft caresses and languid kisses followed but everything beyond that was lost in a fog.

Deciding to investigate the situation, she threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, the goosebumps rising on her arms prompting her to pull on Tim's tattered bathrobe over her thin nightgown. She tied it as she shuffled down the hallway, the smells and sounds of cooking greeting her when she entered the kitchen.

"Tim?"

He was standing in front of the stove, a spatula in one hand, and glanced over his shoulder at the sound of her voice. "You're up."

"What are you doing?" She stepped closer, sliding her arms around his waist and planting a kiss on the back of his shoulder as she peered over it.

"I _was_ making you breakfast in bed," he replied, a small smile on his lips. "But you're not in bed."

She studied the frying pan before him, rubbing his stomach and grasping a handful of his t-shirt. "Pancakes?"

"Mmhmm, and strawberries," he nodded, gesturing to the counter with the spatula.

"My favorite," she grinned.

His smile widened. "I know."

"Even after I fell asleep on you last night?"

"You remember last night?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. "I woke you up twice on the swing before we even came inside."

Yawning, she released her hold on him and allowed him room to work. "I was tired," she responded. "Yesterday was a long day, with all the traveling. But I assumed that I fell asleep and ruined the evening—I woke up in my nightgown."

He scooped the pancakes onto a waiting plate, his mouth set in his trademark small smile. "I did have some other ideas about how last night would go, since I haven't seen you in over a week." Pausing, he looked up from the stove and sought her eyes with his. "But you didn't ruin anything. I'm just glad you're home."

"You must _really _love me," she chuckled. "You didn't get lucky, didn't even get a kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve, but here you are cheerfully making me breakfast anyway!"

Careful to shut off the burner, Tim turned to her and wrapped his arms around her. "I do love you," he told her softly.

"And I will make up for last night," she replied with a sly smile.

"Yes," he answered with mock seriousness, "you will." Leaning down for a kiss, a feeling of warm contentment swirled through Tim. He was with Allyson, and all was right with the world.

"The pancakes are getting cold," she smiled, interrupting his thoughts and capturing his lips a second time.

"I think Santa came last night," he informed her, with a nod toward the living room. "So we've got presents to open, too."

"Special Delivery," she returned, her blue eyes sparkling up at him. She held his gaze for a long moment, wondering if he knew how important he was to her, how much she adored him. Drawing him down to her she kissed him, long and slow, the way she knew he liked to be kissed. _If he didn't know how much I love him before, he does now._ Pulling away the tiniest fraction of an inch, she smiled gently. "Happy new year, Tim."

With his eyes still closed, his lips hovering so close to hers, his smile was a reflection of hers. "Happy new year, Ally."


	17. News

A/N: I'm taking a break from finals week to bring you this chapter--a little follow up on a couple of the storylines started a while back. I had always planned to put this chapter right about here in the story, but I never meant it to take so long to get here, lol. Hopefully y'all remember what happened...or that I put enough review in :D Either way, questions will be answered...

* * *

"Tim…Tim!" Calleigh finally laid a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

Swiveling on his stool in the Trace Lab, Tim glanced up at his colleague and pulled the earphones from his ears. "Yeah?"

"I've been trying to call you," she told him, gesturing to his lab coat pocket.

His eyes immediately darted to the pocket and he drew out his cell phone for a look at the display. "Two missed calls," he read aloud. Then, raising his gaze back to hers, "And you're both of them. Sorry, I thought I put it on vibrate."

"Is that new?"

His gaze shifted to his other pocket at Calleigh's motion, this time to focus on the iPod clipped there. "Christmas present from Ally," he explained.

"I thought she was in Buffalo for the holidays."

"She was," he replied. "We, uh, celebrated when she got back."

Calleigh smiled a small smile. "I hope you got her something nice, too," she countered, her voice softening noticeably.

"A digital camera," he answered. "She's been really interested in photography since the attack—y'know, documenting important moments, keeping memories. I thought she could use an upgrade over the old thirty-five millimeter she had."

She nodded slightly. "That was a good idea," she agreed. "How'd she like it?"

He managed to keep the smile from his lips, but couldn't extinguish the sparkle in his eyes. "She liked it."

Calleigh chuckled, reading the pride and love in his expression. Allowing a moment to pass, her thoughts turned to another question. "How's she been doin'?" she asked gently. "Physically, I mean."

"She's fine," he returned quickly, the sparkle dimming noticeably.

Calleigh pulled a stool up beside him and sat down, lowering her voice. "I saw the crime scene photos, Tim."

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the work table, pressing his lips together for a long moment. "The shallower lacerations healed without any complications," he told her with a reluctant sigh. "The deeper stab wounds took some time, but there doesn't seem to be any trouble there—she had an ultrasound before Christmas to make sure, and she's seeing the doctor today to find out how it went."

Calleigh's smile returned. "Well, I'll keep my fingers crossed for her…after you tell me what that trace was on the gun."

Without missing a beat, Tim swiveled around and began explaining what he knew about the latest clue in the case they were working. When she was satisfied, Calleigh rose and headed off to the ballistics lab to run some tests of her own. As she left she called over her shoulder, "Tell Allyson we're back on for next Thursday—that hearing I was supposed to testify in was cancelled. I'll try to call her tonight or tomorrow."

"I'll tell her," he responded. Before Tim could go back to work, though, he was interrupted by an approaching Eric.

"Call who?" the younger CSI wondered aloud.

"Ally," Tim answered, turning back to his microscope.

Eric stopped on the other side of the table, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Calleigh—that Calleigh—" he pointed to the space she had previously occupied, "—is calling your Allyson?"

"Yeah."

Tim's answer was matter-of-fact, puzzling Eric further. "About what?"

"Shopping or something," the more senior CSI half-mumbled.

"You don't know?"

Tim lifted his eyes from the scope to find an amused smile forming on his colleague's face. "I might be Ally's significant other, Delko, but I'm not her babysitter. I know that she and Calleigh have plans to do _something_ together next Thursday because Calleigh's hearing has been cancelled and Ally's done at school early that day. What they do, and whether they tell me about it, is up to them."

Eric, of course, seized on the phrase he could taunt his friend with. "'Significant other'?" Tim rolled his eyes and went back to his equipment, prompting Eric to continue talking. "Seriously, man, you're okay with Al and Calleigh hanging out together? After all the noise Calleigh made about you having a relationship with a victim?"

Tim's eyebrow rose at the use of Eric's nickname, but he didn't inquire verbally. "Calleigh told me she'd reserve judgment until all the facts are in." He paused, waiting for Eric's brain to absorb the statement. When it didn't, he clarified, "She promised to give Ally a chance."

"So they're spending some time together to get to know each other," Eric elaborated.

"Ally knows you and she hasn't left me yet," Tim reminded him, "she might as well know Calleigh, too."

Eric laughed lightly, ignoring the not-so-subtle dig. "As long as they don't start sharing secrets about you…"

———

"Ally? I'm home," Tim called, closing the front door of Allyson's house behind him that evening. He dropped his badge and gun on the coffee table in the living room, finding no sign of her there or in the kitchen. "Her car is here," he muttered aloud. "Maybe she's taking a nap or something." A quick check of the master bedroom and the guest room produced no results. "Maybe Amanda took her to that doctor's appointment," he reasoned. "Unless she's outside on the swing…"

Pulling back the sliding glass door and stepping through, Tim's eyes fell on a dark-haired figure sitting on the porch swing out back, her legs tucked up underneath her, a hand to her forehead. "Hey," he greeted her, walking over. She lifted her face to meet his gaze and his eyes were immediately drawn to the tears slipping down her cheeks. "Ally?" he repeated, the rising panic quickening his pace. "Ally, what happened?"

She buried her head in the crook of his neck when he sat down beside her, her body tense as his arms went around her. "I saw the doctor today," she told him.

Panic flashed into fear, and Tim's voice was anything but even when he spoke. "What did he say?"

She didn't answer him right away, needing a few moments to gather herself. He waited anxiously, holding her, trying to sooth her until she could give him an answer. "I'm–I'm not sick," she managed finally. "There aren't any health implications from the attack."

His relief was palpable, but his worry over her state of mind remained. "Then why are you crying?"

"There's…scar tissue," she said slowly, backhanding a tear, "from the deep wounds."

"And what does that mean?"

She took a breath and let it out shakily. "It means I can't have children." She lost her tenuous hold on her composure and began weeping quietly again, voicing her anguish as the tears fell. "I always wanted to have a big family. And I knew that I might end up with someone that didn't want kids, or didn't want as many as I did—but that's something we could discuss, something we could work out together. Now I don't even have the option! That…that _criminal_ took it away from me…"

Tim felt his heart breaking for her, brushing her hair out of her eyes as he tried to comfort her. "It's okay," he murmured. "It's gonna be okay."

"No, it's not," she said, shaking her head. "I did everything right! I cooperated with the investigation—the pictures, the fingernail scrapings, giving up my clothes and samples of my hair and DNA. I did that horrible lineup. I _lived_ when he tried to kill me…and after all that, he still won!"

"Only if we let him." He tightened his hold on her, settling her further into his arms. "That bastard is rotting in prison for the rest of his life, and you're here with me. You have a job you love, this house, your family, your friends, _my_ friends. What does Polanski have? A six by nine cell he shares with a guy that makes his miserable life even worse in so many ways. Does that sound like he won?"

She shook her head half-heartedly, her tears continuing to flow unabated.

"Hey…there's more than one way to have a family," he said gently, rubbing small circles across her back. "We'll figure it out, Ally. I know this wasn't what you expected, but when the time comes we'll figure it out."

She nodded against his shirt, knowing what he said was true even as she continued to cry softly, mourning the loss of a part of her in the safety of Tim's embrace.

———

The week that followed was the tough for the pair. Allyson tried hard, but found herself unable to keep her emotions in check. She stopped watching certain television shows because the commercials made her cry, she discovered a lump in her throat when she passed the baby aisle at the grocery store, and even had to leave one of her classes in the hands of another teacher when she welled up at work. Tim did his best to comfort her, leaving the lab as early as he could to be with her, bringing her flowers and her favorite ice cream, loving her as much as he knew how.

Gradually, though, the initial shock and pain dulled, and while things did not exactly return to normal, life began to require less effort to live. Nighttime became a particular solace, where Tim and Allyson were without interruption or distraction, without the pressure of having to appear composed, where they could simply be together.

"Hey Ally, have you seen my new _JFS_?" he called from Allyson's bedroom one such evening, where he was rifling through the nightstand.

She answered him from the bathroom across the hall, subdued but no longer despondent. "It's on the bookshelf in the living room, with the rest of them."

"Not the new one," he returned. "I just had it yesterday…"

"Did you check under the pillows?" she asked, coming up behind him and sliding a hand over his back.

"Why would my _Journal of Forensic Science_ be under the pillows?"

She gave him a half-smile. "Because you fell asleep reading it in bed last night."

Lifting the pillow on his side of the bed, he discovered the missing journal and threw her a wry look. "Hm. Whadaya know."

Her smile blossomed as she moved around the room, dropping dirty clothes in the laundry basket, putting Tim's boots in the closet, removing her jewelry and placing it on the dresser. By the time she returned to the bed and drew back the sheets on her side, he was settled in with his rediscovered journal open in his lap. Allyson stood there for a moment, sheet in hand, taking in the sight of him.

"You said 'when'," she said softly.

He redirected his gaze from the pages before him to the woman beside him. "What?"

She knelt on the mattress and shifted herself closer to him, curling her legs up underneath her and resting a hand on his thigh. "Out on the swing last week," she elaborated. "You said there was more than one way to have a family, and that _when_ the time came, we'd figure it out."

He reached out and clasped her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. "I did."

"Does that mean you've thought about having a family?" she asked uncertainly.

He squinted a little in thought before answering. "No."

"No?"

He saw what looked like hurt in her eyes, and regretted his brief response. "No, I didn't sit around and daydream about being a father," he confessed carefully. "But I never ruled out the possibility, either."

"So I'm reading more into it than you meant," she concluded. "You were just trying to make me feel better."

"Yes and no," he replied cryptically. "I mean, yes, I absolutely wanted to make you feel better—you're the most important thing in the world to me," he raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently, "and it kills me to see you hurting like that. But I knew what I was saying, and I meant _when_."

It was her turn to squint contemplatively for a long moment. "Is this one of those times when everything is all twisted up in your head?" she asked, the beginnings of a smile returning to her lips.

"Yeah," he sighed. "But I'm trying to explain it to you."

She inched closer to him, removing her hand from his grasp to support herself as she leaned across his lap, her smile growing when his arm went around her. "Okay."

His fingers slid languidly up and down her back, caressing her skin, trailing along the strap of her nightgown. "I said 'when' because I can't imagine not being in your life, or having you in mine. I meant it to be supportive; I wanted you to know that I'll be there for all the decisions you have to make and all the discussions you want to have."

"But you never specifically thought about having children," she added.

"Not 'til now."

A mixture of hope, anger, and grief flickered across her features, and her voice was edgy when she spoke. "And now it's too late."

"I said there was more than one way to have a family, didn't I?" he reminded her. "There's fostering, and adoption. And probably some other things, too, that I don't know about." He cupped her cheek with his free hand, running a thumb over her skin. "So we can still have that conversation, _when_ the time comes."

Fresh tears sprang to her blue eyes, but this time they were happy tears. "Do you know how much I love you?" She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, brushing away the streaks from her face and laughing. "And how terrified you looked telling me that?"

That earned her a genuine smile as he pulled her against him. "I don't exactly have a lot of experience with kids," he defended.

She made herself comfortable in his arms. "I think you'd make a good father, though," she said lacing her fingers through his. "I just wish I could give you a child that has your eyes, or your smile. That doesn't bother you?"

"No," he told her, kissing her hair. "I'm not real concerned about passing on the Speedle genes. But it bothers me that you're upset, and that this is so hard on you. _I _wish there was something I could do to make you feel better."

"You're doing it," she smiled into his t-shirt, closing her tired eyes. "You've been doing it—helping me…well, grieve. I know you don't understand why this is so devastating for me, but you've been so good to me while I learn to deal with it." Yawning, she stretched and slid them both beneath the blankets. "Maybe the next big thing that happens to us will be something good."

He felt the warmth of her body against his, heard her breathing softly in his ear, his arm curling protectively around her as she began to drift off to sleep.

And he prayed that she was right.


	18. Getting to Know You

A/N: No, I didn't forget to post earlier this week--just had a few things that kept me from the computer a couple of extra days. :D To reward your patience, here is your Tim&Ally fix for the week :P

* * *

Calligh hurried toward the café, glancing around to see if Allyson was still there before shifting her eyes to her watch. "Damn," she muttered aloud. _I hate being late._ Lifting her gaze to the patrons on the patio enjoying a late lunch, she spotted her companion and immediately slowed her pace, smoothing her blouse as she approached, trying to look calmer and more collected than she felt. "Allyson?"

The teacher looked up, locking eyes with the CSI. "You made it," she smiled politely.

"Sorry," Calleigh apologized, taking a seat at the table. "I got tied up at the lab."

"That's what I thought," Allyson replied, handing her the menu the waiter had left.

"Oh, right," Calleigh said with her own polite smile, "you've probably been through this with Tim."

Allyson nodded. "Yeah, there have been a few late nights, some missed dinners. But it goes with the job."

_She's telling _me_ about the job? _Calleigh choked back an unpleasant response, focusing on the menu in front of her. "So have you been here before?"

"Mmhmm," Allyson nodded again. "Tim and I were here a couple of weekends ago with Alexx and her husband."

_With Alexx? _Calleigh felt a twinge of something—jealousy?—and winced involuntarily.

Allyson noticed and cringed inwardly. _I make it sound like I've been part of the gang forever and Calleigh missed the memo. Or worse, like I'm taking over. _"So how was your Christmas?" she tried, changing the subject. "Did you get some time off over the holidays?"

"Not really," Calleigh told her with an awkward smile. "Most of my family still lives in Louisiana, so I worked a pretty normal schedule. I did have Christmas dinner with my dad, though, so that was nice. What about you? I heard you went to New York."

"Buffalo," Allyson clarified. "My parents still live there, so I don't get to see them much, but I always go home for Christmas." Calleigh smiled again, the same civil-but-strained smile she'd been wearing, and Allyson began to wonder if this little meeting of theirs was worth while after all. An argument at the edge of the patio drew her attention before she could ruminate further, though, and she shook her head. A waiter and waitress stood together, explaining themselves to someone who appeared to be a supervisor of some kind. Every time the waitress opened her mouth to speak her male colleague cut her off, triggering Allyson's lips into a frown. "Typical."

Calleigh looked up from her menu. "What?"

"Over there." Allyson flicked her eyes across the patio, her frown deepening. "I know I shouldn't judge, but if I've seen it once I've seen it a thousand times. The girl is trying to state her case to the boss, but the guy keeps interrupting—"

"—and the boss is listening to the guy," Calleigh finished with her own frown, her gaze alighting on the dispute. "That is typical, isn't it?"

"It happens all the time at school," Allyson told her. "I mean, we have a good staff, and the math department chair definitely knows what he's doing, but there have been more times than I care to remember where one of the female teachers suggests something and is ignored, but when a male teacher makes the same suggestion, he's listened to and taken seriously."

Calleigh sighed in reply. "I hate that."

Allyson glanced back at the arguing employees again before nodding. "It's bad enough in my profession, but I don't know how you even put up with it, Calleigh. At least at school we women outnumber the men. You're pretty much by yourself, aren't you?"

"There are more women getting into forensics, but we're still the minority…especially in ballistics."

"I bet," Allyson agreed. "We're supposed to be too fragile to handle a gun."

"And when we turn out to be good at it, we're not feminine—not real women," Calleigh added emphatically.

Her choice of words sparked a stricken look that flashed across Allyson's features and her voice lost some of its vigor. "I'm familiar with that feeling."

The change did not go unnoticed, and Calleigh felt herself soften. "I'm sorry. Tim told me about your doctor's appointment—he was so sure everything was okay, then he was so upset…"

"I know," Allyson replied steadily. "He asked me if he could talk to you guys about it. I'm…I'm okay, I suppose. Physically I'm not in any danger, it's just emotionally…"

"Yeah." Not knowing what to say, Calleigh let the word hang in the air for a long moment before speaking again. "He would have respected your privacy if you'd asked him to," Calleigh reminded her gently. "We didn't have to know."

"But you're his family—you and Eric and Horatio and Alexx. He might not seem like the most open person in the world," she smiled faintly, "but he needs you guys to know what's going on with him. Sometimes that's going to include me."

Calleigh sat back in her chair and mulled over that thought. _I guess that makes Allyson part of the family, too. And she's already accepted us into her life because we're a part of Tim's. _When she leaned forward again she felt lighter, the way she did when she untangled a particularly snarly case. "Today, it includes you and a little shopping. And some girl talk, right? Don't get me wrong, the Crime Lab is definitely a family, but it's one where I don't have any sisters, y'know?"

Allyson noticed the sparkle in Calleigh's bright eyes and offered a genuine smile in return. "Oh, I know."

———

"Do you look at other men?"

Allyson was pulling plates down out of a kitchen cabinet while Tim attempted to fix homemade spaghetti sauce in his little apartment kitchen. His question made her pause. "What?"

"Do you look at other men?" he repeated, turning from the green pepper he was chopping to look into her blue eyes. When she didn't answer right away, he elaborated. "It's something Alexx said to me a while back—that she and her husband have a look-don't-touch rule when it comes to the opposite sex."

She took the plates from the cupboard, a sly smile on her lips. "You think I'm walking around checking out other guys?"

He watched her walk into the dining room portion of the main living space and set the plates on the table. "Are you?"

"No," she laughed lightly, sauntering back to the kitchen. "I look, but I don't check out."

"Okay…what's the difference?"

"Amanda checks men out: how attractive is he? Does he dress well? Does he have good personal hygiene? Is he wearing a wedding ring?" she explained, planting herself close beside him under the guise of reaching for the silverware drawer. "I look: how does he measure up to Tim?"

He looked down at her, surprised but undeniably pleased. "You do?"

"Yep," she nodded, picking forks from the drawer and sliding it closed.

"And how does that work out?"

She grinned up at him, taking the flatware out to the table. "You always win." When she reappeared, she turned the tables on him. "What about you? Do you look at other women?"

"No," he replied simply, his eyes shining down at her.

Before either of them could speak again, the cordless phone in the living room rang. "Go get it," she said, taking the knife he was holding. "I'll finish the pepper."

He looked at her longingly, waiting until the last second to pop into the living room just before his voicemail kicked in. Allyson heard him answer, absently listening to the sound of his voice as she chopped vegetables. After a few minutes, he poked his head into the kitchen and held out the handset.

"For me?" she asked, mildly stunned. "Who's calling me at your place?"

"My mother."

She stared at him for several moments, then took the phone from him and put it to her ear. "Hello?"

Tim reclaimed his knife and watched her wander out into the living room he had just vacated. He heard her voice but didn't strain to make out the words, knowing that either she would tell him how the conversation went or it was none of his business. He couldn't keep from wondering how it was going, though, and paid close attention to Allyson's tone and the volume of her voice, ready to jump in and diffuse a tense situation should one arise.

Several minutes of half-listening and little pepper chopping created—then heightened—a wave of minor frustration with the spaghetti sauce and Tim, realizing homemade food required much more attention than he was willing to give it, shelved his plans. He was going for the jar he knew was waiting in the back of the cabinet when Allyson came back.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice startled him, but he managed to keep from showing it. "Homemade takes too long," he explained, dumping the jar of Prego into the designated pan.

She chuckled, helping him add the vegetables they'd already diced. "I guess that's why men don't cook," she added.

He waited a beat, hoping she'd offer up information about her telephone conversation. When she didn't, he pressed his lips together and asked with careful nonchalance, "So how's Mom?"

"I knew you'd ask if I waited long enough," she giggled. "But you only lasted two minutes."

"Let's just say I'm curious," he returned evenly.

She planted a kiss on his cheek and took the boiling noodles to the sink to drain. "She just wanted to talk to me, Tim," Allyson reassured him as steam rose around her. "She asked about the school I work in, a little about my family. I asked for incriminating baby pictures. It was no big deal."

He studied her as she finished with the noodles, trying to decide if she was glossing over something or if he was unduly paranoid. He settled on the latter. "So it was good?"

"She was nice and polite."

He frowned almost imperceptibly. "But not friendly and warm."

Allyson placed the noodles back on the stove and slid an arm around him. "She doesn't know me yet. And it's not like she was screaming and cursing at me or anything."

"No, that's definitely not something either of my parents would do," he confirmed. "Not to your face, anyway."

"That's comforting," she grinned sarcastically, running the flat of her hand across his back. "But you know I don't care. Would it be nice if your folks loved me? Sure, it would make things easier, but if it doesn't happen it doesn't happen."

He stirred the sauce as it heated, keeping his eyes down in pretend concentration. "And that's okay."

"Well, it's not okay because I know it bothers you," she told him. "But if that's the way things work out, then I'll deal with it."

He grunted in response. "_We'll_ deal with it." His gaze left the spaghetti sauce and met hers, his lips curving into a small smile. He was rewarded with a look in her blue eyes that made his heart physically skip a beat. "So my mother and Calleigh, all in one day," he continued, checking the sauce's temperature.

His reaction to her did not go unnoticed but Allyson left the confirmation unspoken, tasting the sauce for herself as her smile grew. "Yeah, I'm just all over your friends and family today."

"Everything went okay?"

She nodded, watching him pour the sauce over the noodles before giving everything a good mix. "Everything went," she repeated. "We're not blood sisters or anything, and lunch got off to kind of an awkward start, but the shopping was fun."

"You two do a little retail bonding?" he teased, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Mmhmm. She helped me pick out some new things for work, and I helped her pick out a dress for her date this weekend."

"So this is a serious relationship, then," he said, his expression neutral even as his tone mocked.

She shook her head. "It won't be serious until we start sharing clothes," she answered, her blue eyes twinkling, "or secrets."

Tim bent down to pull their baking garlic bread from the oven. "Will you warn me before that happens?"

"Yeah," Allyson laughed cheerfully. "We're planning another lunch in a couple of weeks…which should give those baby pictures I asked your mom for plenty of time to get here."

She carried the pot of spaghetti out into the living room, leaving him alone with the thought of the two women in his life giggling over his childhood. Forsaking the garlic bread, he followed Allyson into the dining room, his voice more pleading than he intended. "My mother didn't say anything about pictures from my tenth birthday, did she…?"


End file.
